THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


GIFT  OF 
William  P.  Wreden 


MY   LADY    OF    THE 
CHINESE  COURTYARD 


f\NE  does  not  think  of  it  as  a  thing  of  brick 
and  mortar,  but  as  a  casket  whose  jewels  are 
the  prayers  of  waiting,  hoping  women. 


[  Page  69] 


My  Lady  of  the 
Chinese  Courtyard 

BY 

ELIZABETH  COOPER 


Author  of  "Sayonara,"  etc. 


WITH  THIRTY-ONE  ILLUSTRA  TIONS  IN  DUO- 
TONE  FROM  PHOTOGRAPHS 


New  York 

Frederick  A.  Stokes  Company 
Publishers 


Copyright,  1914,  by 
FREDERICK  A.  STOKES  COMPANY 


All  rights  reserved 


FIFTH     PRINTING 


March,  1914 


71  S~ 


TO  MY  HUSBAND 

"What  I  do 

And  what  I  dream  include  thee,  as  the  wine 
Must  taste  of  its  own  grapes" 

ELIZABETH  BARRETT  BROWNING 


AUTHOR'S  NOTE 

IN  these  letters  I  have  drawn  quite  freely 
and  sometimes  literally  from  the  excellent  and 
authoritative  translations  of  Chinese  classics 
by  Professor  Giles  in  his  "  Chinese  Literature" 
and  from  "The  Lute  of  Jade"  and  "The 
Mastersingers  of  Japan,"  two  books  in  the 
"Wisdom  of  the  East"  series  edited  by  L. 
Cranmer-Byng  and  S.  A.  Kapadia  (E.  P. 
Dutton  &  Co.).  These  translators  have  loved 
the  songs  of  the  ancient  poets  of  China  and 
Japan  and  caught  with  sympathetic  apprecia- 
tion, in  their  translations,  the  spirit  of  the 
East. 

I  wish  to  thank  them  for  their  help  in  mak- 
ing it  possible  to  render  into  English  the 
imagery  and  poetry  used  by  "My  Lady  of 
the  Chinese  Courtyard." 

Acknowledgment  is  also  made  to  Mr. 
Donald  Mennie  of  Shanghai,  China,  who 
took  most  of  the  photographs  from  which  the 
illustrations  have  been  made. 

ELIZABETH  COOPER. 
vii 


PREFACE 

A  WRITER  on  things  Chinese  was  asked  why 
one  found  so  little  writing  upon  the  subject 
of  the  women  of  China.  He  stopped,  looked 
puzzled  for  a  moment,  then  said,  "The 
women  of  China!  One  never  hears  about 
them.  I  believe  no  one  ever  thinks  about 
them,  except  perhaps  that  they  are  the 
mothers  of  the  Chinese  men!" 

Such  is  the  usual  attitude  taken  in  regard  to 
the  woman  of  the  flowery  Republic.  She  is 
practically  unknown,  she  hides  herself  behind 
her  husband  and  her  sons,  yet,  because  of  that 
filial  piety,  that  almost  religious  veneration  in 
which  all  men  of  Eastern  races  hold  their 
parents,  she  really  exerts  an  untold  influence 
upon  the  deeds  of  the  men  of  her  race. 

Less  is  known  about  Chinese  women  than 
about  any  other  women  of  Oriental  lands. 
Their  home  life  is  a  sealed  book  to  the  average 
person  visiting  China.  Books  about  China 
deal  mainly  with  the  lower-class  Chinese,  as  it 
is  chiefly  with  that  class  that  the  average 
visitor  or  missionary  comes  into  contact.  The 

ix 


x  Preface 

tourists  see  only  the  coolie  woman  bearing  bur- 
dens in  the  street,  trotting  along  with  a  couple 
of  heavy  baskets  swung  from  her  shoulders, 
or  they  stop  to  stare  at  the  neatly  dressed 
mothers  sitting  on  their  low  stools  in  the  nar- 
row alleyways,  patching  clothing  or  fondling 
their  children.  They  see  and  hear  the  boat- 
women,  the  women  who  have  the  most  free- 
dom of  any  in  all  China,  as  they  weave  their 
sampans  in  and  out  of  the  crowded  traffic  on 
the  canals.  These  same  tourists  visit  the  tea- 
houses and  see  the  gaily  dressed  "sing-song" 
girls,  or  catch  a  glimpse  of  a  gaudily  painted 
face,  as  a  lady  is  hurried  along  in  her  sedan- 
chair,  carried  on  the  shoulders  of  her  chanting 
bearers.  But  the  real  Chinese  woman,  with 
her  hopes,  her  fears,  her  romances,  her  chil- 
dren, and  her  religion,  is  still  undiscovered. 

I  hope  that  these  letters,  which  were  shown 
me  by  the  writer's  husband  many  years  after 
they  were  written,  will  give  a  faint  idea  of  the 
life  of  a  Chinese  lady.  They  were  written  by 
Kwei-li,  the  wife  of  a  very  high  Chinese 
official,  to  her  husband  when  he  accompanied 
his  master,  Prince  Chung,  on  his  trip  around 
the  world. 

She  was  the  daughter  of  a  viceroy  of  Chih-li, 
a  man  most  advanced  for  his  time,  who 


Preface  xi 

was  one  of  the  forerunners  of  the  present 
educational  movement  in  China,  a  movement 
which  has  caused  her  youth  to  rise  and  demand 
Western  methods  and  Western  enterprise  in 
place  of  the  obsolete  traditions  and  customs 
of  their  ancestors.  To  show  his  belief  in  the 
new  spirit  that  was  breaking  over  his  country, 
he  educated  his  daughter  along  with  his  sons. 
She  was  given  as  tutor  Ling-Wing-pu,  a 
famous  poet  of  his  province,  who  doubtless 
taught  her  the  imagery  and  beauty  of  ex- 
pression which  is  so  truly  Eastern. 

Within  the  beautiful  ancestral  home  of  her 
husband,  high  on  the  mountain-side  outside  of 
the  city  of  Su-Chau,  she  lived  the  quiet, 
sequestered  life  of  the  high-class  Chinese 
woman,  attending  to  the  household  duties, 
which  are  not  light  in  these  patriarchal  homes, 
where  an  incredible  number  of  people  live 
under  the  same  rooftree.  The  sons  bring 
their  wives  to  their  father's  house  instead  of 
establishing  separate  homes  for  themselves, 
and  they  are  all  under  the  watchful  eye  of  the 
mother,  who  can  make  a  veritable  prison  or  a 
palace  for  her  daughters-in-law.  In  China 
the  mother  reigns  supreme. 

The  mother-in-law  of  Kwei-li  was  an  old- 
time  conservative  Chinese  lady,  the  woman 


xii  Preface 

who  cannot  adapt  herself  to  the  changing 
conditions,  who  resents  change  of  methods, 
new  interpretations  and  fresh  expressions  of 
life.  She  sees  in  the  new  ideas  that  her  sons 
bring  from  the  foreign  schools  disturbers  only 
of  her  life's  ideals.  She  instinctively  feels 
that  they  are  gathering  about  her  retreat, 
beating  at  her  doors,  creeping  in  at  her  closely 
shuttered  windows,  even  winning  her  sons 
from  her  arms.  She  stands  an  implacable  foe 
of  progress  and  she  will  not  admit  that  the 
world  is  moving  on,  broadening  its  outlook 
and  clothing  itself  in  a  new  expression.  She 
feels  that  she  is  being  left  behind  with  her 
dead  gods,  and  she  cries  out  against  the  change 
which  is  surely  but  slowly  coming  to  China, 
and  especially  to  Chinese  women,  with  the 
advent  of  education  and  the  knowledge  of 
the  outside  world. 

In  a  household  in  China  a  daughter-in-law 
is  of  very  little  importance  until  she  is  the 
mother  of  a  son.  Then,  from  being  prac- 
tically a  servant  of  her  husband's  mother, 
she  rises  to  a  place  of  equality  and  is  looked 
upon  with  respect.  She  has  fulfilled  her  one 
great  duty,  the  thing  for  which  she  was 
created:  she  has  given  her  husband  a  son  to 
worship  at  his  grave  and  at  the  graves  of  his 


Preface  xiii 

ancestors.  The  great  prayer  which  rises  from 
the  heart  of  all  Chinese  women,  rich  and  poor, 
peasant  and  princess,  is  to  Kwan-yin,  for  the 
inestimable  blessing  of  sons.  "Sons!  Give 
me  sons!"  is  heard  in  every  temple.  To  be 
childless  is  the  greatest  sorrow  that  can  come 
to  a  Chinese  woman,  as  she  fully  realizes  that 
for  this  cause  her  husband  is  justified  in  put- 
ting her  away  for  another  wife,  and  she  may 
not  complain  or  cry  out,  except  in  secret,  to 
her  Goddess  of  Mercy,  who  has  not  answered 
her  prayers.  Understanding  this,  we  can 
dimly  realise  the  joy  of  Kwei-li  upon  the  birth 
of  her  son,  and  her  despair  upon  his  death. 

At  this  time,  when  she  was  in  the  very 
depths  of  despondency,  when  she  had  turned 
from  the  gods  of  her  people,  when  it  was 
feared  that  in  her  sorrow,  near  to  madness, 
she  would  take  the  little  round  ball  of  sleep — 
opium — that  has  brought  rest  to  so  "many 
despairing  women  in  China,  her  servants 
brought  her  the  Gospel  of  St.  John,  which 
they  bought  of  an  itinerant  colporteur  in  the 
market-place,  hoping  that  it  might  interest 
her.  In  the  long  nights  when  sleep  would 
not  come  to  her,  she  read  it — and  found  the 
peace  she  sought. 

I  knew  her  many  years  afterward — her  hus- 


xiv  Preface 

band  having  been  appointed  Governor  of 
Kiang-su — when  she  was  the  happy  mother 
of  sons  and  daughters.  She  was  a  blessing 
to  our  province  in  many  ways.  Homes  for 
the  poor  were  erected,  schools  for  girls  were 
started,  and  the  generous  hands  of  Kwei-li 
were  ever  open  to  help  her  people.  Although 
in  the  many  charities  that  were  started  in  the 
provincial  capital  her  name  was  never  men- 
tioned, yet  we  who  knew  realised  that  it  was 
the  wife  of  the  Governor  who  was  the  power 
behind  the  throne  in  every  question  affecting 
women  or  the  poor  and  helpless. 

She  did  not  openly  announce  herself  a 
Christian  or  affiliate  with  any  church,  I  think 
because  of  family  influence,  but  her  life  and 
deeds  showed  plainly  that  on  that  lone  night 
upon  the  mountain-side  when  in  her  despair 
she  called  for  help,  she  did  not  call  in  vain. 
She  found  the  "unknown  God." 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"One  does  not  think  of  it  as  a  thing  of  brick  and  mortar, 
but  as  a  casket  whose  jewels  are  the  prayers  of 
waiting,  hoping  women" Frontispiece 

FACINO 
PAQB 

"The  house  on  the  mountain-top" 4 

"Watch  them  dragging  the  rich  mud  from  the  bottoms 

of  the  canal  for  fertilizing" 5 

"Hear  the  shrill  whistle  of  the  duck  man"      .     .      .16 
"The  path  down  the  mountain-side  is  empty,  except  for 
the  men  with  the  great  umbrella  hats  and  capes  of 
straw,  bringing  the  vegetables  to  the  monastery 

below" 17 

"We  rarely  go  within  the  city  gate" 28 

"He  came  with  candle  and  incense" 29 

"The  great  unwieldy  boats  for  rice" 34 

"With  fierce-eyed  fishing  cormorants" 35 

"We  put  our  money  into  the  great  burner"       ...     44 
"At  night  I  send  away  the  gatekeeper  and  leave  my 
amah  at  the  outer  archway,  so  thy  Mother  will  not 

know  the  hour  he  enters" 45 

"I  watch  the  rice  boats  pass  along  the  canal"  ...     68 
"The  singers  and  the  fortune-tellers  all  have  found  the 

path  that  leads  up  to  our  gateway"      ....     69 
"Perhaps  it  was  a  bridge  on  which  she  crossed  to  a  land 

filled  with  the  memories  of  the  past"    .     .     .     .124 
"The  garden  of  my  friend  was  most  beautiful".     .     .125 
"She  feared  the  spire  would  intercept  the  good  spirits 
of  the  air  from  bringing  directly  to  her  family  roof- 
tree  the  blessings  from  the  temple" 144 

xv 


xvi  Illustrations 


"He  had  never  been  without  the  city's  walls"  .  .  .  145 
"In  our  gaily  painted  tea-house,  and  watch  the  growing 

of  the  lotus" 164 

"They  are  like  their  beautiful  kimonas,  that  hang  so 

gracefully  in  silken  folds" 165 

The  pathway  up  the  mountain-side 178 

"The  people  are  fleeing  from  the  inland  cities"  .  .  179 
"There  reigned  a  heavy  silence  in  her  palace  with  its 

memories" 196 

"We  could  see  the  river,  a  gleaming  thread  of  silver,  and 

the  hillsides,  tree  clad,  flower  wreathed,  painted 

with  the  colours  that  the  Gods  give  to  the  spring"  197 
"He  is  thinking  far  beyond  the  statue,  he  is  seeing  God"  206 
"The  tea-house  knows  him  better  than  his  rooftree"  .  207 
"Why  didst  thou  send  that  priest  of  thine?"  .  .  .224 

"They  are  the  workers  of  the  world" 225 

"At  the  temple  near  Wu-seh" 238 

"We  anchored  at  night  by  a  marshy  bank  girdled  with 

tall  yellow  reeds" 239 

"Across  the  river  a  temple  shines  faintly"  ....  254 
"When  all  the  hills  are  white  with  blossoms"  .  .  .  255 


PART  I 


MY    LADY   OF   THE 
CHINESE  COURTYARD 


My  Dear  One, 

The  house  on  the  mountain-top  has  lost  its 
soul.  It  is  nothing  but  a  palace  with  empty 
windows.  I  go  upon  the  terrace  and  look  over 
the  valley  where  the  sun  sinks  a  golden  red 
ball,  casting  long  purple  shadows  on  the  plain. 
Then  I  remember  that  thou  art  not  coming 
from  the  city  to  me,  and  I  say  to  myself  that 
there  can  be  no  dawn  that  I  care  to  see,  and 
no  sunset  to  gladden  my  eyes,  unless  I  share  it 
with  thee. 

But  do  not  think  I  am  unhappy.  I  do 
everything  the  same  as  if  thou  wert  here,  and 
in  everything  I  say,  "Would  this  please  my 
master?"  Meh-ki  wished  to  put  thy  long 
chair  away,  as  she  said  it  was  too  big;  but  I 
did  not  permit  it.  It  must  rest  where  I  can 
look  at  it  and  imagine  I  see  thee  lying  in  it, 

1 


smoking  thy  water  pipe;  and  the  small  table 
is  always  near  by,  where  thou  canst  reach  out 
thy  hand  for  thy  papers  and  the  drink  thou 
lovest.  Meh-ki  also  brought  out  the  dwarf 
pine-tree  and  put  it  on  the  terrace,  but  I 
remembered  thou  saidst  it  looked  like  an  old 
man  who  had  been  beaten  in  his  childhood,  and 
I  gave  it  to  her  for  one  of  the  inner  court- 
yards. She  thinks  it  very  beautiful,  and  so  I 
did  once;  but  I  have  learned  to  see  with  thine 
eyes,  and  I  know  now  that  a  tree  made  straight 
and  beautiful  and  tall  by  the  Gods  is  more  to 
be  regarded  than  one  that  has  been  bent  and 
twisted  by  man. 

Such  a  long  letter  I  am  writing  thee.  I  am 
so  glad  that  thou  madest  me  promise  to  write 
thee  every  seventh  day,  and  to  tell  thee  all 
that  passes  within  my  household  and  my 
heart.  Thine  Honourable  Mother  says  it  is 
not  seemly  to  send  communication  from  mine 
hand  to  thine.  She  says  it  was  a  thing 
unheard  of  in  her  girlhood,  and  that  we 
younger  generations  have  passed  the  limits  of 
all  modesty  and  womanliness.  She  wishes  me 
to  have  the  writer  or  thy  brother  send  thee  the 
news  of  thine  household;  but  that  I  will  not 
permit.  It  must  come  from  me,  thy  wife. 
Each  one  of  these  strokes  will  come  to  thee 


Chinese     Courtyard  3 

bearing  my  message.  Thou  wilt  not  tear  the 
covering  roughly  as  thou  didst  those  great 
official  letters;  nor  wilt  thou  crush  the  papers 
quickly  in  thy  hand,  because  it  is  the  written 
word  of  Kwei-li,  who  sends  with  each  stroke  of 
her  brush  a  part  of  her  heart. 


My    Lady    of    the 


II 


My  Dear  One, 

My  first  letter  to  thee  was  full  of  sadness 
and  longing  because  thou  wert  newly  gone 
from  me.  Now  a  week  has  passed,  the  sad- 
ness is  still  in  my  heart,  but  it  is  buried  deep 
for  only  me  to  know.  I  have  my  duties  which 
must  be  done,  my  daily  tasks  that  only  I  can 
do  since  thine  Honourable  Mother  has  handed 
me  the  keys  of  the  rice-bin.  I  realise  the 
great  honour  she  does  me,  and  that  at  last  she 
trusts  me  and  believes  me  no  child  as  she  did 
when  I  first  entered  her  household. 

Can  I  ever  forget  that  day  when  first  I 
came  to  my  husband's  people?  I  had  the  one 
great  consolation  of  a  bride,  my  parents  had 
not  sent  me  away  empty-handed.  The  pro- 
cession was  almost  a  li  in  length  and  I 
watched  with  a  swelling  heart  the  many  tens 
of  coolies  carrying  my  household  goods. 
There  were  the  silken  coverlets  for  the  beds, 
and  they  were  folded  to  show  their  richness 
and  carried  on  red  lacquered  tables  of  great 
value.  There  were  the  household  utensils  of 


Chinese     Courtyard 


many  kinds,  the  vegetable  dishes,  the  baskets, 
the  camphor-wood  baskets  containing  my 
clothing,  tens  upon  tens  of  them;  and  I  said 
within  my  heart  as  they  passed  me  by,  "Enter 
my  new  home  before  me.  Help  me  to  find  a 
loving  welcome."  Then  at  the  end  of  the 
chanting  procession  I  came  in  my  red  chair  of 
marriage,  so  closely  covered  I  could  barely 
breathe.  My  trembling  feet  could  scarce 
support  me  as  they  helped  me  from  the  chair, 
and  my  hand  shook  with  fear  as  I  was  being 
led  into  my  new  household.  She  stood  bravely 
before  you,  that  little  girl  dressed  in  red  and 
gold,  her  hair  twined  with  pearls  and  jade,  her 
arms  heavy  with  bracelets  and  with  rings  on 
each  tiny  finger,  but  with  all  her  bravery  she 
was  frightened — frightened.  She  was  away 
from  her  parents  for  the  first  time,  away 
from  all  who  loved  her,  and  she  knew  if  she 
did  not  meet  with  approval  in  her  new  home 
her  rice-bowl  would  be  full  of  bitterness  for 
many  moons  to  come. 

After  the  obeisance  to  the  ancestral  tablet 
and  we  had  fallen  upon  our  knees  before  thine 
Honourable  Parent,  I  then  saw  for  the  first 
time  the  face  of  my  husband.  Dost  thou 
remember  when  first  thou  raised  my  veil  and 
looked  long  into  my  eyes?  I  was  thinking. 


6  My    Lady     of    the 

"Will  he  find  me  beautiful?"  and  in  fear  I 
could  look  but  for  a  moment,  then  my  eyes 
fell  and  I  would  not  raise  them  to  thine  again. 
But  in  that  moment  I  saw  that  thou  wert  tall 
and  beautiful,  that  thine  eyes  were  truly 
almond,  that  thy  skin  was  clear  and  thy  teeth 
like  pearls.  I  was  secretly  glad  within  my 
heart,  because  I  have  known  of  brides  who, 
when  they  saw  their  husbands  for  the  first 
time,  wished  to  scream  in  terror,  as  they 
were  old  or  ugly.  I  thought  to  myself  that 
I  could  be  happy  with  this  tall,  strong  young 
man  if  I  found  favour  in  his  sight,  and  I  said 
a  little  prayer  to  Kwan-yin.  Because  she  has 
answered  that  prayer,  each  day  I  place  a 
candle  at  her  feet  to  show  my  gratitude. 

I  think  thine  Honourable  Mother  has 
passed  me  the  keys  of  the  household  to  take 
my  mind  from  my  loss.  She  says  a  heart 
that  is  busy  cannot  mourn,  and  my  days  are 
full  of  duties.  I  arise  in  the  morning  early, 
and  after  seeing  that  my  hair  is  tidy,  I  take 
a  cup  of  tea  to  the  Aged  One  and  make  my 
obeisance;  then  I  place  the  rice  and  water  in 
their  dishes  before  the  God  of  the  Kitchen, 
and  light  a  tiny  stick  of  incense  for  his  altar, 
so  that  our  day  may  begin  auspiciously. 
After  the  morning  meal  I  consult  with  the 


Chinese     Courtyard 


cook  and  steward.  The  vegetables  must  be 
regarded  carefully  and  the  fish  inspected,  and 
I  must  ask  the  price  that  has  been  paid,  be- 
cause often  a  hireling  is  hurried  and  forgets 
that  a  bargain  is  not  made  with  a  breath. 

I  carry  the  great  keys  and  feel  much  pride 
when  I  open  the  door  of  the  storeroom.  Why, 
I  do  not  know,  unless  it  is  because  of  the 
realisation  that  I  am  the  head  of  this  large 
household.  If  the  servants  or  their  children 
are  ill,  they  come  to  me  instead  of  to  thine 
Honourable  Mother,  as  in  former  times.  I 
settle  all  difficulties,  unless  they  be  too  rare 
or  heavy  for  one  of  my  mind  and  experience. 

Then  I  go  with  the  gardener  to  the  terrace 
and  help  him  arrange  the  flowers  for  the  day. 
I  love  the  stone-flagged  terrace,  with  its  low 
marble  balustrade,  resting  close  against  the 
mountain  to  which  it  seems  to  cling. 

I  always  stop  a  moment  and  look  over  the 
valley,  because  it  was  from  here  I  watched 
thee  when  thou  went  to  the  city  in  the  morn- 
i~g,  and  here  I  waited  thy  return.  Because 
of  my  love  for  it  and  the  rope  of  remembrance 
with  which  it  binds  me,  I  keep  it  beautiful 
with  rugs  and  flowers. 

It  speaks  to  me  of  happiness  and  brings  back 
memories  of  summer  days  spent  idling  in  a 


8  My    Lady    of    the 

quiet  so  still  that  we  could  hear  the  rustle  of 
the  bamboo  grasses  on  the  hillside  down 
below;  or,  still  more  dear,  the  evenings  passed 
close  by  thy  side,  watching  the  lingering 
moon's  soft  touch  which  brightened  into  jade 
each  door  and  archway  as  it  passed. 
I  long  for  thee,  I  love  thee,  I  am  thine. 

Thy  Wife 


Chinese     Courtyard 


III 

My  Dear  One, 

The  hours  of  one  day  are  as  like  each  other 
as  are  twin  blossoms  from  the  pear-tree. 
There  is  no  news  to  tell  thee.  The  mornings 
are  passed  in  the  duties  that  come  to  all  women 
who  have  the  care  of  a  household,  and  the 
afternoons  I  am  on  the  terrace  with  thy  sister. 
But  first  of  all,  thine  August  Mother  must  be 
made  comfortable  for  her  sleep,  and  then  the 
peace  indeed  is  wonderful. 

Mah-li  and  I  take  our  embroidery  and  sit 
upon  the  terrace,  where  we  pass  long  hours 
watching  the  people  in  the  valley  below.  The 
faint  blue  smoke  curls  from  a  thousand 
dwellings,  and  we  try  to  imagine  the  lives  of 
those  who  dwell  beneath  the  rooftrees.  We 
see  the  peasants  in  their  rice-fields;  watch 
them  dragging  the  rich  mud  from  the  bottoms 
of  the  canal  for  fertilizing;  hear  the  shrill 
whistle  of  the  duck  man  as,  with  long  bamboo, 
he  drives  the  great  flock  of  ducks  homeward  or 
sends  them  over  the  fields  to  search  for  insects. 
We  see  the  wedding  procession  far  below,  and 


10  My    Lady    of    the 

can  but  faintly  follow  the  great  covered  chair 
of  the  bride  and  the  train  of  servants  carrying 
the  possessions  to  the  new  home.  Often  the 
wailing  of  the  mourners  in  a  funeral  comes  to 
our  ears,  and  we  lean  far  over  the  balcony  to 
watch  the  coolie  scatter  the  spirit  money  that 
will  pay  the  dead  man's  way  to  the  land  of  the 
Gods.  But  yesterday  we  saw  the  procession 
carrying  the  merchant  Wong  to  his  resting- 
place  of  the  dead.  There  were  many  thou- 
sands of  sycee  spent  upon  his  funeral.  Thy 
brother  tells  me  his  sons  made  great  boast  that 
no  man  has  been  buried  with  such  pomp  in  all 
the  province.  But  it  only  brings  more  clearly 
the  remembrance  that  he  began  this  life  a 
sampan  coolie  and  ended  it  with  many  mil- 
lions. But  his  millions  did  not  bring  him 
happiness.  He  laboured  without  ceasing,  and 
then,  without  living  to  enjoy  the  fruit,  worn 
out,  departed,  one  knows  not  whither. 

Yesterday  we  heard  the  clang-clang  of  a 
gong  and  saw  the  Taotai  pass  by,  his  men 
carrying  the  boards  and  banners  with  his  offi- 
cial rank  and  virtues  written  upon  them,  and 
we  counted  the  red  umbrellas  and  wondered 
if  some  poor  peasant  was  in  deep  trouble. 

It  is  beautiful  here  now.  The  hillside  is 
purple  with  the  autumn  bloom  and  the  air  is 


Chinese     Courtyard  11 

filled  with  a  golden  haze.  The  red  leaves 
drift  slowly  down  the  canal  and  tell  me  that 
soon  the  winter  winds  will  come.  Outside  the 
walls  the  insects  sing  sleepily  in  the  grass, 
seeming  to  know  that  their  brief  life  is  nearly 
spent.  The  wild  geese  on  their  southward 
flight  carry  my  thoughts  to  thee.  All  is  sad, 
and  sad  as  the  clouded  moon  my  longing  face, 
and  my  eyes  are  filled  with  tears.  Not  at 
twilight  nor  at  grey  of  dawn  can  I  find  happi- 
ness without  thee,  my  lord,  mine  own,  and 
"endless  are  the  days  as  trailing  creepers." 

Thy  Wife 


My    Lady    of    the 


IV 


My  Dear  One, 

I  have  much  to  tell  thee.  My  last  letter 
was  unhappy,  and  these  little  slips  of  paper 
must  bring  to  thee  joy,  not  sorrow,  else  why 
the  written  word? 

First,  I  must  tell  thee  that  thy  brother 
Chih-peh  will  soon  be  married.  Thou  know- 
est  he  has  long  been  betrothed  to  Li-ti,  the 
daughter  of  the  Governor  of  Chih-li,  and  soon 
the  bride  will  be  here.  We  have  been  arran- 
ging her  apartments.  We  do  not  know  how 
many  home  servants  she  will  bring,  and  we 
are  praying  the  Gods  to  grant  her  discretion, 
because  with  servants  from  a  different  prov- 
ince there  are  sure  to  be  jealousies  and  the 
retailing  of  small  tales  that  disturb  the  har- 
mony of  a  household. 

Many  tales  have  been  brought  us  of  her 
great  beauty,  and  we  hear  she  has  much  edu- 
cation. Thine  August  Mother  is  much  dis- 
turbed over  the  latter,  as  she  says,  and  justly 
too,  that  over-learning  is  not  good  for  women. 
It  is  not  meet  to  give  them  books  in  which  to 


Chinese     Courtyard  13 

store  their  embroidery  silks.  But  I — I  am 
secretly  delighted,  and  Mah-li,  thy  sister,  is 
transported  with  joy.  I  think  within  our 
hearts,  although  we  would  not  even  whisper  it 
to  the  night  wind,  we  are  glad  that  there  will  be 
three  instead  of  two  to  bear  the  burden  of  the 
discourses  of  thine  Honourable  Mother.  Not 
that  she  talks  too  much,  thou  understandest, 
nor  that  her  speech  is  not  stored  full  of  wis- 
dom, but — she  talks — and  we  must  listen. 

We  have  other  news.  A  new  slave-girl  has 
come  into  our  household.  As  thou  knowest, 
there  has  been  a  great  famine  to  the  north  of 
us,  and  the  boats,  who  follow  all  disaster,  have 
been  anchored  in  our  canal.  I  do  not  know 
why  the  August  One  desired  to  add  one  more 
to  take  of  rice  beneath  our  roof  tree;  but  she  is 
here.  She  was  brought  before  me,  a  little 
peasant  girl,  dressed  in  faded  blue  trousers  and 
a  jacket  that  had  been  many  times  to  the 
washing  pool.  Her  black  hair  was  coiled  in 
the  girlhood  knot  at  the  side  of  the  head,  and 
in  it  she  had  stuck  a  pumpkin  blossom. 
She  was  such  a  pretty  little  country  flower,  and 
looked  so  helpless,  I  drew  her  to  me  and 
questioned  her.  She  told  me  there  were  many 
within  their  compound  wall:  grandmother, 
father,  mother,  brothers,  sisters,  uncles  and 


14  My    Lady    of    the 

cousins.  The  rice  was  gone,  the  heavy  cloth- 
ing and  all  of  value  in  the  pawn-shop.  Death 
was  all  around  them,  and  they  watched  each 
day  as  he  drew  nearer — nearer.  Then  came 
the  buyers  of  girls.  They  had  money  that 
would  buy  rice  for  the  winter  and  mean  life  to 
all.  But  the  mother  would  not  listen.  She  was 
told  over  and  over  that  the  price  of  one  would 
save  the  many.  But  she  would  not  sell  her 
daughter.  Her  nights  were  spent  in  weeping 
and  her  days  in  fearful  watching.  At  last, 
worn  out,  despairing,  she  went  to  a  far-off 
temple  to  ask  Kwan-yin,  the  Mother  of 
Mercies,  for  help  in  her  great  trouble.  While 
she  was  gone,  Ho-tai  was  taken  to  the  women 
in  the  boat  at  the  water-gate,  and  many  pieces 
of  silver  were  paid  the  father.  When  the 
stomach  is  empty,  pride  is  not  strong,  and 
there  were  many  small  bodies  crying  for  rice 
that  could  only  be  bought  with  the  sacrifice  of 
one.  That  night,  as  they  started  down  the 
canal,  they  saw  on  the  tow-path  a  peasant 
woman,  her  dress  open  far  below  her  throat, 
her  hair  loose  and  flying,  her  eyes  swollen  and 
dry  from  over-weeping,  moaning  pitifully, 
stumbling  on  in  the  darkness,  searching  for  the 
boat  that  had  been  anchored  at  the  water- 
gate;  but  it  was  gone.  Poor  little  Ho-tai! 


Chinese     Courtyard  15 

She  said,  "It  was  my  mother! " and  as  she  told 
me,  her  face  was  wet  with  bitter  rain.  I 
soothed  her  and  told  her  we  would  make  her 
happy,  and  I  made  a  little  vow  in  my  heart 
that  I  would  find  that  mother  and  bring  peace 
to  her  heart  again. 

The  summer  wanes  and  the  autumn  is  upon 
us  with  all  its  mists  and  shadows  of  purple  and 
grey.  The  camphor-trees  look  from  the  dis- 
tance like  great  balls  of  fire,  and  the  eucalyp- 
tus-tree, in  its  dress  of  brilliant  yellow,  is  a 
gaily  painted  court  lady.  If  one  short  glimpse 
of  thee  my  heart  could  gladden,  then  all  my 
soul  would  be  filled  with  the  beauty  of  this 
time,  these  days  of  red  and  gold.  But  now 
I  seek  thee  the  long  night  through,  and  turn  to 
make  my  arm  thy  pillow — but  thou  art  gone. 

I  am  thy  wife  who  longs  for  thee. 


16  My    Lady    of    the 


My  Dear  One, 

We  have  a  daughter-in-law.  Not  only 
have  we  a  daughter-in-law,  but  we  have  ser- 
vants and  household  furnishings  and  cloth- 
ing—  and  clothing — and  clothing.  I  am  sure 
that  if  her  gowns  could  be  laid  side  by  side, 
they  would  reach  around  the  world.  She  is 
as  fair  as  the  spring  blossoms,  and  of  as  little 
use.  An  army  encamped  upon  us  could  not 
have  so  upset  our  household  as  the  advent  of 
this  one  maiden.  She  brought  with  her  rugs 
to  cover  the  floors,  embroideries  and  hangings 
for  the  walls,  scrolls  and  sayings  of  Confucius 
and  Mencius  to  hang  over  the  seats  of  honour 
— to  show  us  that  she  is  an  admirer  of  the 
classics — screens  for  the  doorways,  even  a 
huge  bed  all  carved  and  gilded  and  with 
hangings  and  tassels  of  gay  silk. 

Thine  Honourable  Mother,  after  viewing 
the  goods  piled  in  the  courtyards,  called  her 
bearers  and  told  us  she  was  taking  tea  with  a 
friend  in  the  village  of  Sung-dong.  I  think 
she  chose  this  friend  because  she  lives  the 


Chinese     Courtyard  17 

farthest  from  our  compound  walls.  I  alone 
was  left  to  direct  the  placing  of  this  furniture. 
Li-ti  was  like  a  butterfly,  flitting  hither  and 
thither,  doing  nothing,  talking  much.  The 
bed  must  be  so  placed  that  the  Spirits  of  Evil 
passing  over  it  in  the  night-time  could  not 
take  the  souls  of  the  sleepers  away  with  them. 
The  screens  must  stand  at  the  proper  angle 
guarding  the  doorways  from  the  spirits  who,  in 
their  straight,  swift  flight  through  the  air, 
fall  against  these  screens  instead  of  entering 
the  house.  She  gravely  explained  to  me  that 
the  souls  who  dwell  in  darkness  like  to  take  up 
their  abode  in  newly  organised  households, 
and  many  precautions  must  be  made  against 
them.  She  even  seriously  considered  the  rcof, 
to  see  if  all  the  points  curved  upward,  so 
that  the  spirits  lighting  upon  them  be  carried 
high  above  the  open  courtyards.  I  do  not 
know  what  would  have  happened  to  thine 
ancestral  rooftree  if  it  had  not  met  with  her 
approval.  I  was  many  heartfuls  glad  that 
thine  August  Mother  was  taking  tea  in  a  far- 
off  village,  as  Li-ti  even  wanted  to  install  a 
new  God  in  the  kitchen.  This  I  would  not 
permit.  Canst  thou  imagine  thy  Mother's 
face  if  a  God  from  a  stranger  family  was 
in  the  niche  above  the  kitchen  stove?  Hap- 


18  My    Lady    of    the 

pily  all  was  over  when  thine  Honourable 
Mother  returned.  She  is  not  pleased  with 
this,  her  newest,  daughter-in-law,  and  she 
talks — and  talks — and  talks.  She  says  the 
days  will  pass  most  slowly  until  she  sees  the 
father  of  Li-ti.  She  yearns  to  tell  him  that  a 
man  knows  how  to  spend  a  million  pieces  of 
money  in  marrying  off  his  daughter,  but  knows 
not  how  to  spend  a  hundred  thousand  in 
bringing  up  his  child.  If  this  great  Governor 
of  Chih-li  has  much  wisdom,  he  will  stay  long 
within  his  province.  I  have  just  heard  for  the 
hundredth  time  the  saying  of  Confucius, 
"Birth  is  not  a  beginning,  nor  is  death  an 
end."  In  my  despair  I  said  deep  down  within 
my  breast,  "I  am  sure  it  will  not  be  an  end  for 
thee,  O  Mother-in-law.  Thou  wilt  go  to  the 
River  of  Souls  talking,  talking,  always  talking 
— but  the  Gods  will  be  good  to  me.  Thou 
must  pass  before  me,  and  I  will  not  hasten  so 
as  to  overtake  thee  on  the  way."  I  beg  thy 
pardon,  dear  one.  I  lack  respect  to  thy 
Most  Honourable  Parent,  but  my  soul  is  sore 
tried  and  I  can  find  no  quiet. 

I  am 

Thy  Wife 


Chinese     Courtyard  19 


VI 


My  Dear  One, 

:<The  five  worst  infirmities  that  afflict  the 
female  are  indocility,  discontent,  slander,  jeal- 
ousy, and  silliness.  The  worst  of  them  all, 
and  the  parent  of  the  other  four,  is  silliness." 
Does  that  not  sound  familiar  to  thine  ears? 
Life  is  serious  here  in  thine  ancestral  home 
since  we  have  taken  to  ourselves  a  daughter- 
in-law.  The  written  word  for  trouble  is  two 
women  beneath  one  rooftree,  and  I  greatly 
fear  that  the  wise  man  who  invented  writing 
had  knowledge  that  cost  him  dear.  Perhaps 
he,  too,  had  a  daughter-in-law. 

Yet,  with  it  all,  Li-ti  is  such  a  child.  Ah, 
I  see  thee  smile.  Thou  sayest  she  is  only 
three  years  less  in  age  than  I;  yet,  thou  seest, 
I  have  had  the  honour  of  living  a  year  by  the 
side  of  thy  Most  August  Mother  and  have 
acquired  much  knowledge  from  the  very 
fountain-head  of  wisdom.  Perchance  Li-ti 
also  will  become  a  sage,  if — she  be  not  gathered 
to  her  ancestors  before  her  allotted  time,  which 


depends  upon  the  strength  of  body  and  of 
mind  which  they  may  have  willed  her. 

To  me  she  is  the  light  of  this  old  palace. 
She  is  the  true  spirit  of  laughter,  and,  "When 
the  happy  laugh,  the  Gods  rejoice."  She  is 
continually  in  disgrace  with  thine  Honourable 
Mother,  and  now  the  Elder  One  has  decided 
that  both  she  and  Mah-li,  thy  sister,  shall 
learn  a  text  from  the  sage  Confucius  each  day 
for  penance.  They  are  now  in  the  inner 
courtyard,  studying  the  six  shadows  which 
attend  the  six  virtues.  I  can  hear  them  saying 
over  and  over  to  each  other,  "Love  of  good- 
ness without  the  will  to  learn  casts  the  shadow 
called  foolishness" — now  a  laugh — then  again 
they  begin,  "Love  of  knowledge  without  the 
will  to  learn  casts  the  shadow  called  instabil- 
ity"— giggle  and  much  talking.  I  am  afraid 
they  will  never  arrive  at  the  shadow  cast  by 
the  love  of  truth,  and  after  I  have  written 
thee  I  will  go  in  and  help  them,  that  they  may 
not  be  reprimanded. 

Li-ti  takes  her  duties  now  most  seriously, 
these  same  duties  consisting  of  dressing  for 
the  day.  In  the  morning  she  seats  herself 
before  her  mirror,  and  two  maids  attend  her, 
one  to  hold  the  great  brass  bowl  of  water,  the 
other  to  hand  her  the  implements  of  her 


Chinese     Courtyard 


toilet.  While  the  face  is  warm  she  covers  it 
with  honey  mixed  with  perfume,  and  applies 
the  rice-powder  until  her  face  is  as  white  as 
the  rice  itself.  Then  the  cheeks  are  rouged, 
the  touch  of  red  is  placed  upon  the  lower  lip, 
the  eyebrows  are  shaped  like  the  true  willow 
leaf,  and  the  hair  is  dressed.  Her  hair  is 
wonderful  (but  I  say  within  my  heart,  not  so 
long  or  so  thick  as  mine),  and  she  adorns 
it  with  many  jewels  of  jade  and  pearls.  Over 
her  soft  clothing  of  fine  linen  she  draws  the 
rich  embroidered  robes  of  silk  and  satin. 
Then  her  jewels,  earrings,  beads,  bracelets, 
rings,  the  tiny  mirror  in  the  embroidered  case, 
the  bag  with  its  rouge  and  powder  fastened 
to  her  side  by  long  red  tassels.  When  all 
things  are  in  place,  she  rises  a  being  glorified, 
a  thing  of  beauty  from  her  glossy  hair  to  the 
toe  of  her  tiny  embroidered  shoe.  I  watch 
her  with  a  little  envy,  because  when  thou 
wast  here  I  did  the  same.  Now  that  my 
husband  is  away,  it  is  not  meet  that  I  make 
myself  too  seemly  for  other  eyes.  The  rouge 
brush  and  the  powder  have  not  been  near  my 
face,  and  I  have  searched  my  clothing  chests 
to  find  gowns  fitting  for  a  woman  who  is 
alone. 

Thy  Mother  says  poor  Li-ti  is  o'ervain,  and 


My    Lady     of    the 


repeats  to  her  the  saying,  "More  precious  in 
a  woman  is  a  virtuous  heart  than  a  face  of 
beauty."  But  I  say  she  is  our  butterfly,  she 
brings  the  joys  of  summer.  One  must  not 
expect  a  lace  kerchief  to  hold  tears,  and  she 
fulfills  her  woman's  destiny.  Chih-peh,  thy 
brother,  is  inexpressibly  happy.  He  adores 
his  pretty  blossom.  He  follows  her  with  eyes 
that  worship,  and  when  she  is  in  disgrace 
with  thine  August  Mother,  he  is  desolate. 
When  needs  be  she  is  sent  to  her  apartment, 
he  wanders  round  and  round  the  courtyards 
until  the  Honourable  One  has  retired  from 
sight,  then  he  hurriedly  goes  to  his  beloved. 
Soon  I  hear  them  laughing  gaily,  and  know 
the  storm  is  over. 

The  rains  have  come  and  we  cannot  pass 
long  days  upon  the  terrace.  The  whole 
valley  is  shrouded  in  grey  mists  and  the 
peasants  have  gone  from  the  fields.  The  path 
down  the  mountain-side  is  empty,  except  for 
the  men  with  the  great  umbrella  hats  and  capes 
of  straw,  bringing  the  vegetables  to  the  monas- 
tery below.  The  old  abbot  of  the  monastery 
is  in  great  trouble.  Some  men  have  come  and 
wish  to  erect  long  poles  with  wires  on  them. 
It  is  feared  it  will  interrupt  the  feng-shui  of 
the  temple.  The  good  spirits  of  the  air  can- 


Chinese     Courtyard  23 

not  pass,  and  will  rest  upon  these  ugly  poles 
instead  of  coming  to  the  temple  rooftree. 
The  abbot  has  wailed  and  gone  to  the  magis- 
trate; but  he  will  not  interfere,  as  the  men 
have  many  tens  of  thousands  of  sycee  and 
quite  likely  will  work  their  will. 

Such  foolish  letters  as  I  write  thee!  They 
are  filled  with  the  little  life  that  passes  within 
the  women's  courtyard.  It  is  all  the  life  I 
know.  My  world  is  bounded  by  these  walls, 
and  I  ask  no  more. 

I  am  thy  loving  wife. 


24  My    Lady    of    the 


VII 

My  Dear  One, 

All  thy  women-folk  have  been  shopping! 
A  most  unheard-of  event  for  us.  We  have 
Li-ti  to  thank  for  this  great  pleasure,  because, 
but  for  her,  the  merchants  would  have  brought 
their  goods  to  the  courtyard  for  us  to  make  our 
choice.  Li-ti  would  not  bear  of  that;  she 
wanted  to  see  the  city,  and  she  wanted  to 
finger  the  pretty  goods  within  the  shops. 
She  knew  exactly  what  she  wished,  and  life 
was  made  uncomfortable  for  us  all  until  thy 
Mother  ordered  the  chairs  and  we  went  into 
the  city.  We  were  a  long  procession.  First, 
the  August  One  with  her  four-bearer  chair; 
then  your  most  humble  wife,  who  has  only  two 
bearers  —  as  yet;  then  Li-ti;  and  after  her 
Mah-li,  followed  by  the  chairs  of  the  servants 
who  came  to  carry  back  our  purchases. 

It  was  most  exciting  for  us  all,  as  we  go 
rarely  within  the  city  gate.  It  was  market 
day  and  the  streets  were  made  more  narrow  by 
the  baskets  of  fish  and  vegetables  which  lined 
the  way.  The  flat  stones  of  the  pavements 


Chinese     C  ourtyard  25 

were  slippery  and  it  seemed  our  bearers  could 
not  find  a  way  amongst  the  crowd  of  riders  on 
horses  and  small  donkeys,  the  coolies  with 
their  buckets  of  hot  water  swinging  from  their 
shoulders,  the  sweetmeat  sellers,  the  men  with 
bundles,  and  the  women  with  small  baskets. 
They  all  stepped  to  one  side  at  the  sound  of  the 
Ah-yo  of  our  leader,  except  a  band  of  coolies 
carrying  the  monstrous  trunk  of  a  pine-tree, 
chanting  as  they  swung  the  mast  between 
them,  and  keeping  step  with  the  chant.  It 
seemed  a  solemn  dirge,  as  if  some  great  giant 
were  being  carried  to  the  resting-place  of  the 
dead. 

But  sadness  could  not  come  to  us  when 
shopping,  and  our  eager  eyes  looked  long  at  the 
signs  above  the  open  shopways.  There  were 
long  black  signs  of  lacquer  with  letters  of 
raised  gold,  or  red  ones  with  the  characters 
carved  and  gilded.  Above  a  shoe-shop  was  a 
boot  made  for  the  King  of  the  Mountains, 
and  in  front  of  a  pipe-shop  was  a  water 
pipe  fit  for  his  mate.  From  the  fan-shop 
hung  delicate,  gilded  fans;  and  framing  the 
silk-shop  windows  gaily  coloured  silk  was 
draped  in  rich  festoons  that  nearly  swept 
the  pathway. 

We  bought  silks  and  satins  and  gay  bro- 


26  My    Lady     of    the 

cades,  we  chatted  and  we  bargained  and  we 
shopped.  We  handled  jade  and  pearls  and 
ornaments  of  twisted  gold,  and  we  priced 
amulets  and  incense  pots  and  gods.  We  filled 
our  eyes  with  luxury  and  our  amahs9  chairs 
with  packages,  and  returned  home  three 
happy,  tired,  hungry  women,  thinking  with 
longing  of  the  hissing  tea-urn  upon  the  char- 
coal brazier. 

That  crowded,  bustling,  threatening  city 
seems  another  world  from  this,  our  quiet, 
•walled-in  dwelling.  I  feel  that  here  we  are 
protected,  cared  for,  guarded,  and  life's  hurry 
and  distress  will  only  pass  us  by,  not  touch  us. 
Yet — we  like  to  see  it  all,  and  know  that  we 
are  part  of  that  great  wonder-thing,  the 
world. 

I  am  thy  happy,  tired 

Wife 


Chinese     Courtyard  27 


VIII 

My  Dear  One, 

I  am  carrying  a  burden  for  another  that  is 
causing  me  much  sorrow.  Dost  thou  remem- 
ber Chen-peh,  who  is  from  my  province  and 
who  married  Ling  Peh-yu  about  two  moons 
after  I  came  to  thy  household?  She  came  to 
me  yesterday  in  dire  distress.  She  is  being 
returned  to  her  home  by  her  husband's 
people,  and,  as  thou  knowest,  if  a  woman  is 
divorced  shame  covers  her  until  her  latest 
hour.  I  am  inexpressibly  saddened,  as  I  do 
not  know  what  can  be  done.  The  trouble  is 
with  his  mother  and,  I  fear,  her  own  pride  of 
family.  She  cannot  forget  that  she  comes 
from  a  great  house,  and  she  is  filled  with  pride 
at  the  recollection  of  her  home.  I  have  told 
her  that  the  father  and  mother  of  one's  hus- 
band should  be  honoured  beyond  her  own.  I 
can  see  that  she  has  failed  in  respect;  and 
thus  she  merits  condemnation.  We  have 
all  learned  as  babes  that  "respect"  is  the  first 
word  in  the  book  of  wisdom.  I  know  it  is 


28  My    Lady    of    the 

hard  at  times  to  still  the  tongue,  but  all  paths 
that  lead  to  peace  are  hard. 

She  will  remain  with  me  two  nights.  Last 
night  she  lay  wide-eyed,  staring  into  the 
darkness,  with  I  know  not  what  within  her 
soul.  I  begged  her  to  think  wisely,  to  talk 
frankly  with  her  husband  and  his  mother,  to 
whom  she  owes  obedience.  There  should  be 
no  pride  where  love  is.  She  must  think  upon 
the  winter  of  her  days,  when  she  will  be  alone, 
without  husband  and  without  children,  eating 
bitter  rice  of  charity,  though  'tis  given  by 
her  people.  I  put  her  in  remembrance  of  that 
saying  of  the  poet : 

"  Rudely  torn  may  be  a  cotton  mantle,  yet 

a  skillful  hand  may  join  it; 
Snapped  may  be  the  string  where  pearls 

are  threaded,  yet  the  thread  all  swiftly 

knotted; 
But  a  husband  and  his  wife,  once  parted, 

never  more  may  meet." 

I  must  not  bring  thee  the  sorrows  of  another. 
Oh,  dear  one,  there  will  never  come  'twixt  thee 
and  me  the  least  small  river  of  distrust.  I 
will  bear  to  thee  no  double  heart,  and  thou  wilt 
cherish  me  and  love  me  alway. 

Thy  Wife 


H 


E  came  with  candle  and  incense. 


[Page  S3] 


Chinese     Courtyard  29 


IX 


My  Dear  One, 

I  cannot  wait  until  the  seventh  day  to  write 
thee  again,  as  my  letter  to  thee  yestereve  was 
full  of  sadness  and  longing.  Now  I  have  slept, 
and  troubles  from  a  distance  do  not  seem  so 
grave. 

Thine  Honourable  Mother  has  chided  me 
gravely,  but  to  my  mind  unjustly,  and,  as  thou 
knowest,  I  could  not  answer  her  words,  though 
they  pierced  me  "like  arrows  from  the  strings 
of  white-winged  bows."  Poor  Li-ti  is  in 
trouble  again,  and  this  time  she  has  brought 
it  upon  herself,  yet  she  cannot  be  blamed.  I, 
as  the  head  of  the  household,  as  thine  Hon- 
ourable Mother  has  told  me,  should  have  pro- 
tected her.  I  told  thee  that  she  brought 
servants  from  her  old  home,  and  amongst 
them  her  childhood's  nurse,  who,  I  am  sure, 
loves  Li-ti  dearly;  but,  as  many  women  who 
have  little  to  occupy  their  hands,  she  loves  to 
sit  in  the  women's  courtyard  and  gossip.  If 
it  had  stopped  within  the  servants'  courtyard 
all  would  have  been  well;  but  at  the  time  of 


30  My    Lady    of    the 

Li-ti's  dressing  all  the  small  goods  she  had 
gathered  during  the  day  were  emptied  into  the 
lap  of  Li-ti,  who  is  too  young  to  know  that 
"as  poison  that  reaches  the  blood  spreads 
through  the  body,  so  does  the  love  of  gossip 
spread  through  the  soul  of  woman."  I  do  not 
know  how  it  came  about,  but  comparisons  were 
made  between  the  households,  that  of  her 
home  and  that  of  her  husband,  and  news  was 
carried  back  to  the  servants'  quarters  until  at 
last  our  household  was  in  a  state  of  unrest  that 
stopped  all  work  and  made  living  quite 
impossible. 

It  seems  small,  but  it  is  the  retailing  of 
little  calumnies  that  disturbs  the  harmony  of 
kinsmen  and  ruins  the  peace  of  families. 
Finally  I  found  it  necessary  to  talk  to  Li-ti's 
nurse,  and  I  told  her  many  things  it  were  good 
for  her  to  know.  I  warned  her  that  if  she 
did  not  wish  to  revisit  her  home  province 
she  must  still  her  tongue.  Things  were  better 
for  a  time,  but  they  commenced  again,  and 
I  called  her  to  my  courtyard  and  said  to  her, 
"The  sheaves  of  rice  have  been  beaten  across 
the  wood  for  the  last  time.  You  must  go." 
Li-ti  was  inconsolable,  but  I  was  firm.  Such 
quarrels  are  not  becoming  when  we  are  so 
many  beneath  one  rooftree. 


Chinese     Courtyard  31 

The  servant  went  away,  but  she  claimed 
her  servant's  right  of  reviling  us  within  our 
gate.  She  lay  beneath  our  outer  archway 
for  three  long  hours  and  called  down  curses 
upon  the  Liu  family.  One  could  not  get 
away  from  the  sound  of  the  enumeration  of 
the  faults  and  vices  of  thy  illustrious  ancestors 
even  behind  closed  doors.  I  did  not  know, 
my  husband,  that  history  claimed  so  many 
men  of  action  by  the  name  of  Liu.  It  pleased 
me  to  think  thou  mayest  claim  so  long  a 
lineage,  as  she  went  back  to  the  dynasty  of 
Ming  and  brought  forth  from  his  grave  each 
poor  man  and  woman  and  told  us  of — not 
his  virtues.  I  should  have  been  more  in- 
dignant, perhaps,  if  I  had  not  heard  o'ermuch 
of  the  wonders  of  thy  family  tree.  I  was 
impressed  by  the  amount  of  knowledge  ac- 
quired by  the  family  of  Li-ti.  They  must 
have  searched  the  chronicles  which  evidently 
recorded  only  the  unworthy  acts  of  thy  men- 
folk in  the  past.  I  hope  that  I  will  forget 
what  I  have  heard,  as  some  time  when  I  am 
trying  to  escape  from  thine  ancestors  the 
tongue  might  become  unruly. 

At  the  end  of  three  hours  the  woman  was 
faint  and  very  ill.  I  had  one  of  the  servants 
take  her  down  to  the  boat,  and  sent  a  man 


32  My    Lady    of    the 

home  with  her,  bearing  a  letter  saying  she  was 
sickening  for  home  faces.  She  is  old,  and  I 
did  not  want  her  to  end  her  days  in  disgrace 
and  shame. 

But  thine  Honourable  Mother!  Thine 
Honourable  Mother!  Art  thou  not  glad  that 
thou  art  in  a  far-off  country  ?  She  went  from 
courtyard  to  courtyard,  and  for  a  time  I 
fully  expected  she  would  send  to  the  Yamen 
for  the  soldiers;  then  she  realised  the  woman 
was  within  her  right,  and  so  restrained  her- 
self. It  nearly  caused  her  death,  as  thou 
knowest  thine  Honourable  Mother  has  not 
long  practised  the  virtue  of  restraint,  espe- 
cially of  the  tongue.  She  was  finally  overcome 
and  taken  to  her  chamber,  and  we  brought 
her  tea  and  heated  wine,  and  tried  in  all  our 
ways  to  make  her  forget  the  great  humilia- 
tion. As  she  became  no  better,  we  sent  for 
the  man  of  medicine  from  the  Eastern  Gate, 
and  he  wished  to  burn  her  shoulders  with  a 
heated  cash  to  remove  the  heat  within  her. 
To  this  she  objected  so  strongly  that  he  hastily 
gathered  his  utensils  and  departed,  looking 
fearfully  over  his  shoulder  from  time  to  time 
as  he  passed  quickly  down  the  hillside. 

Then  I  thought  of  her  favourite  priest  from 
the  monastery  down  below,  and  sent  for  him. 


Chinese     Courtyard 


He  came  with  candle  and  incense  and,  I  think, 
some  rose  wine  for  which  the  monastery  is 
justly  famous;  and  he  chanted  prayers,  striking 
from  time  to  time  a  little  gong,  until  peace  was 
restored  and  sleep  came  to  her  eyelids. 

In  the  morning  she  wished  to  talk  to 
Li-ti;  but  I  feared  for  her,  and  I  said,  "You 
cannot  speak  of  the  ocean  to  a  well-frog,  nor 
sing  of  ice  to  a  summer  insect.  She  will  not 
understand."  She  said  Li-ti  was  without 
brains,  a  senseless  thing  of  paint  and  powder. 
I  said,  "We  will  form  her,  we  will  make  of 
her  a  wise  woman  in  good  time."  She  replied 
with  bitterness,  "Rotten  wood  cannot  be 
carved  nor  walls  of  dirt  be  plastered."  I 
could  not  answer,  but  I  sent  Li-ti  to  pass  the 
day  with  Chih-peh  at  the  Goldfish  Temple,  and 
when  she  returned  the  time  was  not  so  stormy. 

All  this  made  me  unhappy,  and  the  cares 
of  this  great  household  pressed  heavily  upon 
my  shoulders.  Please  do  not  think  the  cares 
too  heavy,  nor  that  I  do  not  crave  the  work. 
I  know  all  labour  is  done  for  the  sake  of  happi- 
ness, whether  the  happiness  comes  or  no;  and 
if  I  find  not  happiness,  I  find  less  time  to  dream 
and  mourn  and  long  for  thee,  my  husband. 

Thy  Wife 


34  My    Lady    of    the 


My  Dear  One, 

We  have  been  to  a  great  festival  at  the 
Temple  of  the  Goddess  of  a  Thousand  Hands. 
Thine  Honourable  Mother  decided  that  we 
should  go  by  boat  part  of  the  way,  so  the 
chairs  were  told  to  meet  us  at  the  Western 
Village  Rest-house. 

We  hired  from  the  city  one  of  those  great 
pleasure-boats,  but  it  was  not  too  great  for 
us  all.  There  was  the  August  One,  and  four 
of  her  friends,  then  Li-ti,  Mah-li  and  myself. 
We  took  the  cook,  the  steward  and  three 
amahs,  and  it  was  indeed  a  time  of  feasting. 
It  was  the  first  time  I  had  been  upon  the 
canal,  and  it  was  different  from  seeing  it  from 
the  terrace.  As  we  passed  slowly  along  we 
could  watch  the  life  of  the  water  people.  On 
the  banks  were  the  great  water-wheels  turned 
by  the  village  buffalo.  In  the  deserted  dis- 
tricts women  were  gathering  reeds  to  make 
the  sleeping  mats  and  boat  covers.  The 
villages  with  their  blue-grey  houses  and 
thatched  roofs  nestling  among  the  groves  of 


Chinese     C  ourtyard 


bamboos  looked  like  chicklets  sheltering  under 
the  outstretched  wings  of  the  mother  hen. 

We  pushed  our  way  through  the  crowded 
water-ways  of  the  cities,  where  we  could  catch 
glimpses  of  the  guests  in  the  tea-houses  or 
the  keepers  of  the  shops,  or  could  watch  the 
children  leaning  over  the  balconies.  On  the 
steps  between  the  houses  which  led  to  the 
waterside  women  were  washing  clothes,  or 
the  dyers  were  cleansing  the  extra  dye  from 
the  blue  cotton  which  clothes  all  China's 
poor.  We  caught  small  bits  of  gossip  and 
heard  the  laughter  of  all  these  people,  who 
seemed  happy  at  their  work. 

When  we  could  again  pass  to  the  open  canal 
we  would  watch  the  boats.  I  did  not  know 
there  were  so  many  boats  in  all  the  world. 
They  floated  slowly  past  us — big  boats,  little 
boats,  those  that  went  by  sail,  and  those  that 
went  by  oar.  There  were  the  boats  of  man- 
darins and  merchants,  those  for  passengers, 
and  great  unwieldy  boats  for  rice.  We  saw 
the  fishing-boats  with  their  hungry,  fierce- 
eyed  cormorants  sitting  quietly  in  their  places, 
waiting  for  the  master  to  send  them  diving 
in  the  water  for  the  fish  they  may  not  eat. 

The  canal  was  a  great  broad  highway. 
Even  the  tow-paths  had  their  patrons.  Trav- 


36  My    Lady     of    the 

ellers  on  wheelbarrows,  rich  men  in  sedan- 
chairs,  soldiers,  coolies,  chanting  as  they  swung 
along  with  their  burdens  swinging  from  the 
bamboo  on  their  shoulders,  all  going  to  or 
coming  from  the  great  city  to  which  we  drew 
nearer  with  each  stroke. 

At  the  rest-house  the  bearers  were  awaiting 
us,  and  we  were  carried  up  the  long  paved 
roadway  to  the  temple.  It  seemed  as  if  all 
the  world  had  turned  to  praying — all  the 
women  world,  that  is.  They  were  here,  rich 
and  poor,  peasant  and  official's  wife,  but  in 
the  temple  all  of  a  sisterhood.  We  descended 
from  our  chairs  in  the  courtyard  and  put  our 
spirit  money  in  the  great  burner,  where  it 
ascended  in  tiny  flames  side  by  side  with  that 
of  the  beggar  woman,  to  the  great  God  in  the 
Heavens.  We  entered  the  temple,  placed  our 
candles,  and  lighted  our  incense.  We  made 
our  obeisance  to  the  Many-handed  Goddess 
and  asked  her  blessing  on  our  household 
for  the  year  to  come.  Then  I  went  to  the 
Mother  of  Mercies,  Kwan-yin,  and  made  my 
deepest  reverence,  because  for  her  my  heart 
is  full  of  love  and  gratitude.  The  other  Gods 
I  respect  and  make  them  all  due  worship,  but 
I  feel  they  are  far  away  from  me.  Kwan-yin 
is  the  woman's  God,  and  I  feel  her  love  for  me. 


Chinese     Courtyard  37 

She  shapes  my  way,  and  I  know  it  is  to  her 
I  owe  it  that  my  life  flows  on  as  a  gentle 
stream,  and  I  know  that  she  cares  for  me  and 
guards  me  now  that  thou  art  away  and  I  have 
no  one  on  whom  to  lean.  When  I  go  before 
her  all  fire  of  passion  is  extinguished  in  my 
heart,  and  my  troubles  and  cares  pass  away 
and  become  small  in  the  distance,  even  as  the 
light  of  the  morning  stars  pales  and  wanes  at 
the  coming  of  the  sun.  My  heart  is  full  of 
love  for  her,  of  a  love  that  I  cannot  express. 
She  has  heard  my  prayers  and  answered 
them.  She  is  my  Kwan-yin,  my  Mother  of 
Mercy,  and  each  day  I  do  some  little  deed  for 
her,  some  little  thing  to  show  remembrance, 
so  she  will  know  the  hours  are  not  too  full 
nor  the  days  too  short  for  me  to  place  my 
offering  on  an  altar  built  of  love. 

As  we  turned  to  leave  the  temple  I  glanced 
back  at  the  great  dark  chamber  and  I  saw  the 
God  of  Light,  the  Buddha,  sitting  there  so 
calm  upon  his  throne,  with  the  light  of  many 
candles  before  him  and  clouds  of  incense  that 
floated  to  the  roof.  I  thought,  "He  is  all- 
powerful.  I  only  prayed  to  him  from  out  my 
lips,  not  with  my  heart.  Perhaps — "  So  I 
returned.  I  prayed  the  mighty  God  with 
humble  prayer  to  bring  my  loved  one  swiftly 


38  My    Lady    of    the 

home  to  me;  and  then  we  left  the  temple.  We 
walked  slowly  through  the  courtyards,  looking 
at  the  great  trees  that  stood  like  tall,  grim 
sentinels  guarding  the  place  of  prayer.  Then 
we  .were  taken  by  our  bearers  to  the  Goldfish 
Monastery  in  the  hills.  Dost  thou  remember 
it  ?  Thou  and  I  were  there  once  in  the  spring- 
time. 

We  bought  the  small  round  cakes  from  the 
priests  and  fed  the  greedy  fish.  They  swarmed 
over  the  pool,  pushing,  nudging,  fighting  one 
another  to  get  the  morsels  we  threw  them. 
Tiring  of  that,  we  had  tea  and  sweetmeats 
served  upon  the  terrace;  then,  after  chatting 
for  a  time,  we  left  for  the  boat.  We  drifted 
slowly  homeward.  Thy  Mother  and  her 
friends  discussed  the  earth,  the  moon,  the 
sun  and  stars,  as  well  as  smaller  matters,  such 
as  children,  husbands,  servants,  schools — and 
upon  the  last  thy  Mother  waxed  most  eloquent; 
as  thou  knowest,  it  is  a  sore  subject  with  her, 
this  matter  of  the  new  education.  I  heard 
her  say:  "All  my  sons  have  book  knowledge. 
Of  what  use  is  it  in  the  end  ?  The  cock  crows 
and  the  dog  barks.  We  know  that,  but  the 
wisest  of  my  sons  cannot  say  why  one  crows 
and  the  other  barks,  nor  why  they  crow  or 
bark  at  all."  Canst  thou  hear  her,  and  see 


Chinese     C  ourtyard  39 

her  shake  her  head  dolefully  over  the  dismal 
fact  that  thou  hast  left  the  narrow  way  of 
Confucius  and  the  classics  ? 

We  came  to  the  pathway  just  at  sunset,  and 
as  I  looked  up  at  the  old  palace  a  little  hurt 
came  to  my  heart  that  thou  wert  not  close  by 
my  side.  It  lay  so  peaceful  there  and  quiet, 
the  curving  roofs  like  flights  of  doves  who  had 
settled  down  with  their  wings  not  yet  quite 
folded.  It  brought  remembrance  that  for  me 
it  was  an  empty  palace.  I  will  see  no  one — as 
Li-ti  will — within  the  archway. 

Thy  Wife  Who  Loves  Thee 


40  My    Lady    of    the 


XI 


My  Dear  One, 

Thy  letter  and  the  photographs  received. 
Thou  sayest  it  is  a  "flashlight"  of  a  reception 
to  thy  Master,  the  Prince.  I  do  not  know 
exactly  what  that  means,  but  there  seem  to  be 
many  people  and — ladies.  I  have  not  shown 
thine  Honourable  Mother  the  picture,  as  she 
might  ask  thee  to  return  at  once.  I  do  not 
criticise  thy  friends,  nor  could  our  Prince  go 
to  a  place  not  fitting  to  his  dignity,  but — the 
ladies  seem  in  my  poor  judgment  most  lightly 
clad. 

The  papers  here  are  full  of  thy  reception  in 
that  foreign  land  and  of  the  honour  that  is 
paid  the  embassy.  Thy  brother  read  to  all 
within  the  courtyard  of  the  feasts  that  are 
given  in  honour  of  His  Highness,  and  we  were 
full  proud,  knowing  well  thou  stoodst  close  by 
him  at  the  time.  Thy  letters  are  a  joy  to  me. 
We  read  them  many  times,  and  then  I  read 
those  of  Chih-peh,  which  talk  of  things  I  do 
not  understand.  Thou  must  not  give  the 
foolish  boy  ideas,  as  he  prates  most  glibly  of 


Chinese     Courtyard  41 

"republics"  and  "government  of  the  people 
by  the  people,"  after  he  has  received  thy  let- 
ters. That  is  for  men  of  wisdom  like  thee, 
but  not  for  foolish  boys  to  carry  with  them  to 
the  tea-house. 

Kwei-li. 


42  My    Lady    of    the 


XII 

My  Dear  One, 

Thou  askest  me  if  I  still  care  for  thee,  if 
the  remembrance  of  thy  face  has  grown  less 
dear  with  the  passing  of  the  days.  Dear  one, 
thou  knowest  we  Chinese  women  are  not 
supposed  to  know  of  love,  much  less  to  speak 
of  it.  We  read  of  it,  we  know  it  is  the  song 
of  all  the  world,  but  it  comes  not  to  us  unless 
by  chance.  We  go  to  you  as  strangers,  we 
have  no  choice,  and  if  the  Gods  withhold  their 
greatest  gift,  the  gift  of  love,  then  life  is  grey 
and  wan  as  the  twilight  of  a  hopeless  day. 
Few  women  have  the  joy  I  feel  when  I  look 
into  my  loved  one's  face  and  know  that  I  am 
his  and  he  is  mine,  and  that  our  lives  are 
twined  together  for  all  the  days  to  come. 

Do  I  love  thee?  I  cannot  tell.  I  think  of 
thee  by  day  and  I  dream  of  thee  by  night.  I 
never  want  to  hurt  thee  nor  cause  thee  a 
moment's  sorrow.  I  would  fill  my  hands  with 
happiness  to  lay  down  at  thy  feet.  Thou  art 
my  life,  my  love,  my  all,  and  I  am  thine  to 
hold  through  all  the  years. 


Chinese     Courtyard  43 


XIII 

M y  Dear  One, 

It  is  the  time  of  school,  and  now  all  the  day 
from  the  servants'  courtyard  I  hear  their 
droning  voices  chanting  the  sayings  of  Con- 
fucius. I  did  not  know  we  had  so  many 
young  lives  within  our  compound  until  I  saw 
them  seated  at  their  tables.  I  go  at  times 
and  tell  them  tales  which  they  much  prefer  to 
lessons,  but  of  which  thine  Honourable  Mother 
does  not  approve.  I  told  them  the  other 
day  of  Pwan-ku.  Dost  thou  remember  him  ? 
How  at  the  beginning  of  Time  the  great  God 
Pwan-ku  with  hammer  and  chisel  formed  the 
earth.  He  toiled  and  he  worked  for  eighteen 
thousand  years,  and  each  day  increased  in 
stature  six  feet,  and,  to  give  him  room,  the 
Heavens  rose  and  the  earth  became  larger  and 
larger.  When  the  Heavens  were  round  and 
the  earth  all  smooth,  he  died.  His  head  be- 
came mountains,  his  breath  the  wind  and  the 
clouds,  his  voice  the  thunder.  His  arms  and 
legs  were  the  four  poles,  his  veins  the  rivers, 
his  muscles  the  hills  and  his  flesh  the  fields. 


44  My    Lady    of    the 

His  eyes  became  the  stars,  his  skin  and  hair 
the  herbs  and  the  trees,  and  the  insects  which 
touched  him  became  people.  Does  not  that 
make  thee  think  of  thy  childhood's  days? 

They  crowd  around  me  and  say,  "Tell  us 
more,"  just  as  I  did  with  my  old  amah  when 
she  stilled  me  with  the  tales  of  the  Gods. 
Yesterday,  one  small  boy,  the  son  of  the  chief 
steward,  begged  for  a  story  of  the  sun.  I  had 
to  tell  him  that  my  wisdom  did  not  touch  the 
sun,  although  I,  in  my  foolish  heart,  think  it 
a  great  God  because  it  gives  us  warmth  and 
we  can  feel  its  kindly  rays.  I  said,  "Thou 
hast  seen  the  coolies  tracking  on  the  tow-path 
with  their  heavy  wadded  clothing  wet  with 
rain.  If  it  were  not  for  the  kindly  sun 
which  dries  them,  how  could  they  toil  and  work 
and  drag  the  great  rice-boats  up  to  the  water- 
gate?  Is  he  not  a  God  to  them  ?" 

I  told  them  also  of  Chang-ngo,  the  great, 
great  beauty  who  drank  the  cup  of  life  eternal. 
She  went  to  the  moon,  where  the  jealous  Gods 
turned  her  into  a  great  black  toad.  She  is 
there,  forever  thinking,  mourning  over  her  lost 
beauty,  and  when  we  see  the  soft  haze  come 
over  the  face  of  the  moon,  we  know  that  she  is 
weeping  and  filling  the  space  with  her  tears. 

I  perhaps  am  wrong  to  tell  the  foolish  tales 


[Page  36] 


TJ7"E  put  our  money  into  the  great  burner. 


A  T  night  I  send  away  the  gatekeeper  and 
leave  my  amah  at  the  outer  archway,  so  thy 
Mother  will  not  know  the  hour  he  enters 


I  Page  M] 


Chinese     Courtyard  45 

to  the  children,  but  they  grow  so  tired  of  the 
hard  benches  and  Chang-tai,  the  teacher, 
who  glares  at  them  so  fiercely  when  they 
speak  not  quickly  enough  to  please  him. 

There  has  been  much  gossip  from  the  valley 
over  the  mountain-side.  It  seems  an  iron 
bridge  is  being  put  across  the  river,  and  strange 
men  come  and  peer  at  the  countryside  through 
witch  glasses.  It  has  made  the  good  spirits 
of  the  air  to  draw  apart  from  the  valley,  and 
the  cattle  have  died  and  the  rice  not  ripened, 
and  much  sorrow  has  gone  broadcast.  The 
river  overflowed,  because  they  desecrated  the 
Dragon's  back  by  digging  down  into  the 
earth  that  was  sacred.  I  know  nothing  ex- 
cept what  is  brought  from  the  market-place, 
and,  as  it  does  not  concern  us  here  on  the 
mountain-side,  I  listen  only  with  my  ears, 
not  with  my  mind. 

The  nights  are  long  and  cold.  The  moon 
casts  silver  shimmering  lights  over  the  valley 
below.  We  cannot  stand  long  on  the  terrace 
but  must  stay  close  within  our  rooms  near  to 
the  charcoal  braziers.  The  wind  sweeps  o'er 
the  roof  tree  with  the  wailing  voice  of  a  woman. 

Oh,  Soul  of  Mine,  with  weary  heart  the 
creeping  days  I'm  counting. 

Thy  Wife 


46  My    Lady    of    the 


XIV 

My  Dear  One, 

We  have  had  a  serious  sickness  come  to  all 
the  countryside;  rich  and  poor,  peasant  and 
merchant  have  suffered  from  a  fever  that  will  not 
abate.  It  raged  for  more  than  a  moon  before 
it  was  known  the  cause  thereof.  Dost  thou 
remember  the  Kwan-lin  Pagoda?  Its  ruin 
has  long  been  a  standing  shame  to  the  people 
of  the  province,  and  finally  the  Gods  have 
resented  their  neglect  and  sent  them  this  great 
illness.  Over  all  the  city  the  yellow  edicts  of 
the  priests  have  been  placed  so  as  to  meet  the 
eye  of  all  who  travel.  They  are  in  the  market- 
places, at  the  entrance  of  the  tea-houses,  stand- 
ing on  great  boards  at  the  doorways  of  the  tem- 
ples, in  front  of  the  water-gates,  and  at  each 
city  postern.  They  state  that  the  Gods  are 
angry  and  send  to  each  man  or  household 
that  will  not  give  three  days'  work  upon  the 
Pagoda  the  fever  that  leaves  him  weak  and 
ailing.  They  demand  the  labour  of  the  city; 
and  if  it  is  not  given  freely,  toil  is  sent 
the  people  in  their  sleep  and  they  waken 


Chinese     Courtyard  47 

weary,  and  must  so  remain  until  the  work  is 
finished 

We  did  not  hearken  to  the  summons  until 
Chih-peh,  thy  brother,  fell  ill  with  the  sickness. 
He  grew  worse  each  day,  until  Li-ti  and  thine 
Honourable  Mother  were  panic-stricken.  At 
last  the  chairs  were  ordered,  and  thy  Mother 
and  I  went  to  the  monastery  on  the  hillside  to 
consult  with  the  old  abbot,  who  is  most  full  of 
wisdom.  Thine  Honourable  Mother  told  him 
of  the  illness  which  had  assailed  her  son,  and 
begged  him  to  tell  her  if  it  were  the  illness  of 
the  Pagoda.  He  meditated  long  and  seri- 
ously, then  he  said,  "My  daughter,  the  Gods 
are  no  respecter  of  persons;  they  wish  the  ser- 
vice of  your  son."  "But,"  thine  Honourable 
Mother  objected,  "he  is  no  workman.  He 
cannot  labour  upon  the  Pagoda."  The  abbot 
said,  "There  are  more  ways  of  giving  service 
than  the  labour  of  the  hands.  The  Gods  will 
allow  him  to  contribute  of  his  wealth  and  buy 
the  toil  of  other  men,  and  thus  he  may  cancel 
his  obligation."  The  August  One  satisfied 
the  greedy  heart  of  the  priest,  and  then  he  told 
her  to  go  and  make  her  obeisance  to  the  God 
of  Light,  the  great  Buddha,  and  see  what  mes- 
sage he  had  for  her. 

She   took   the   hollow   bamboo  filled  with 


48  My    Lady     of    the 

the  numbered  slices  of  wood  and,  prostrating 
herself  three  times  before  the  Great  One,  shook 
it  slowly  until  one  detached  itself  from  its 
brothers  and  fell  to  the  floor.  The  abbot  then 
handed  her  a  slip  of  paper  which  read : 

"Wisdom  sits  by  the  Western  Gate 
And  gives  health  and  happiness  to  those 
who  wait." 

These  words  meant  nothing  to  thine  Honour- 
able Mother;  and  after  giving  the  abbot  more 
silver,  he  said,  "Beside  the  Western  Gate  sits 
the  owl  of  wisdom,  the  great  doctor  Chow- 
fong.  His  father  and  his  father's  father  were 
wise;  their  study  was  mankind,  and  to  him 
has  come  all  their  stores  of  knowledge.  He 
has  books  of  wonderful  age,  that  tell  him  the 
secret  of  the  world.  Go  to  him;  he  will  give 
you  the  plan  of  healing." 

We  started  for  the  Western  Gate,  and  I,  in 
my  wicked  heart,  spoke  thoughts  that  should 
have  been  closely  locked  within  my  breast. 
I  said,  "Perhaps  the  doctor  and  the  priest 
have  formed  a  combination  most  profitable 
to  the  two.  If  we  had  gone  to  the  doctor  first, 
we  might  have  been  sent  to  the  abbot."  It 
was  a  great  mistake  to  mention  such  a  dreadful 
thing,  and  I  realised  it  instantly;  as  thou 


Chinese     Courtyard  49 

knowest,  the  Elder  One  has  a  tongue  of 
eloquence,  and  I  was  indeed  glad  that  her 
bearers  carried  her  at  least  ten  paces  from  my 
bearers — and  the  way  was  long. 

Even  thine  Honourable  Mother  was  awed 
at  the  solemn  looks  of  this  great  man  of 
medicine  who,  in  his  dim  room  with  dried  bats 
hanging  from  the  ceiling  beams  and  a  dragon's 
egg  close  by  his  hand,  glared  at  her  through  his 
great  goggles  like  a  wise  old  owl.  She  apolo- 
gised for  disturbing  so  great  a  man  at  his 
studies,  but  she  was  the  bearer  of  a  message 
from  the  abbot.  He  read  it  carefully,  then 
took  down  a  monstrous  book  entitled  "The 
Golden  Mirror  of  Medical  Practice,"  and 
solemnly  pored  over  its  pages.  At  last  he 
wrote  upon  a  paper,  then  chanted : 

"  In  a  building  tall,  by  the  city  wall, 

In  the  street  of  the  Tower  of  Gold, 
Is  the  plant  of  health,  long  life  and  wealth, 
In  the  claws  of  the  Dragon  bold." 

The  August  One  took  the  paper,  laid  some 
silver  upon  the  table,  and  we  hurried  from  his 
doorway,  glad  to  be  free  from  his  fearful 
presence.  When  we  entered  the  chairs  and 
looked  to  the  paper  for  directions  to  give  the 
bearers,  the  characters  were  meaningless  to  us. 


50  My    Lady    of    the 

I  repeated  his  chant,  and  the  head  bearer 
said,  "There  is  a  shop  of  drugs  in  the  street 
of  the  Tower  of  Gold,  and  the  sign  of  the  place 
is  a  Golden  Dragon's  Claw." 

We  soon  were  there,  and  waited  in  our  chairs 
while  the  bearer  took  the  paper  into  the  maker 
of  medicines.  We  waited  long,  and  thine 
Honourable  Mother  would  have  been  impa- 
tient if  sleep  had  not  kindly  made  her  forget 
the  waiting  hours.  I,  sitting  in  my  chair, 
could  look  through  the  archways  into  the  big 
covered  courtyards  where  blind  men  were 
grinding  herbs.  They  were  harnessed  to 
great  stones,  and  went  round  and  round  all 
day,  like  buffalo  at  the  water-wheel.  I  won- 
dered why  the  Gods  had  put  them  at  this 
service.  What  sins  they  had  committed  in 
their  other  life,  to  be  compelled  to  work  like 
beasts,  grinding  the  herbs  that  would  bring 
health  and  life  to  others,  while  they  lived  on 
in  darkness.  Often  I  would  hear  the  soft 
call  of  the  deer  as  they  moved  restlessly  in 
their  tiny  cells.  I  know  their  horns,  when 
powdered  fine  with  beetles'  wings,  is  the  cure 
for  fevers  and  all  ailments  of  the  blood,  but 
why  could  not  the  wise  ones  of  the  earth  have 
found  some  herb  or  weed  to  take  their  place 
and  give  these  wild  ones  of  the  woods  their 


Chinese    Courtyard  51 

freedom?  Finally,  the  bearer  came  with  a 
tiny  jar,  too  small,  it  seemed,  to  take  such 
time  in  mixing,  and  we  returned  to  the  waiting 
Li-ti. 

The  medicine  was  black  and  nasty  and 
smelled  not  sweetly,  which  proved  its  strength. 
Chih-peh  got  slowly  better,  and  the  world 
again  looked  fair  to  Li-ti,  and  the  song  came 
to  her  lips.  The  flowers  were  put  in  the  hair, 
the  gay  dresses  were  brought  out  of  their 
boxes,  and  she  was,  as  of  old,  our  butterfly. 

We  laughed  at  her  for  her  fright,  but  I 
thought,  if  it  had  been  thou  who  wast  ill,  and 
I  did  not  know  the  cure!  Oh,  dear  one,  dost 
thou  understand  that,  to  a  woman  who  loves, 
her  husband  is  more  than  Heaven,  more  than 
herself?  All  that  she  is  not,  all  that  she 
lacks,  all  that  she  desires  to  be,  is  her  beloved. 
His  breath  alone  can  bring  peace  to  her  heart, 
and  it  is  he  alone  who  teaches  her  the  depth 
of  passionate  joy  there  is  in  love  and  life  and 
all  things  beautiful. 

I  am  thy  wife 


52  My     Lady     of    the 


XV 

My  Dear  One, 

Thine  Honourable  Mother  is  beset  by  the 
desire  of  marrying.  No,  do  not  start;  it  is  not 
of  herself  she  is  thinking.  She  will  go  to  the 
River  of  Souls  mourning  thine  Honourable 
Father,  and  a  pailo  will  be  erected  in  her 
honour.  It  is  of  her  household  she  is  thinking. 
She  says  our  rooftree  is  too  small  to  shelter 
four  women,  three  of  whom  have  little  brains— 
and  that  includes  thy  humble,  loving  wife— 
but  why  she  should  wish  to  exchange  Mah-li, 
whom  she  knows,  for  a  strange  woman  whom 
she  does  not  know,  passes  my  understanding. 
She  seems  not  overfond  of  daughters-in-law, 
if  one  judge  from  chance  remarks. 

First,  before  I  speak  of  Mah-li,  I  must  tell 
thee  of  thy  brother.  Thine  Honourable 
Mother  is  right — it  were  better  that  he  marry 
and  have  a  heel  rope  that  leads  him  home  wards. 
He  is  unruly  and  passes  overmuch  time  at  the 
Golden  Lotus  Tea-house.  He  is  not  bad  or 
wicked.  He  lives  but  for  the  moment,  and 
the  moment  is  often  wine-flushed.  He  will 


Chinese     Courtyard  53 

not  work  or  study,  and  many  times  at  night 
I  send  away  the  gatekeeper  and  leave  my 
amah  at  the  outer  archway,  so  thy  Mother 
will  not  know  the  hour  he  enters.  He  is 
young,  and  has  chosen  friends  not  equal  to 
himself,  and  they  have  set  his  feet  in  the  path- 
way that  slopes  downward. 

He  does  not  wish  to  marry.  We  have  told 
him  that  marriage  is  a  will  of  the  Gods  and 
must  be  obeyed.  "Man  does  not  attain  by 
himself,  nor  Woman  by  herself,  but  like  the 
one-winged  birds  of  our  childhood's  tale,  they 
must  rise  together."  It  is  useless  to  talk  to 
him.  A  spark  of  fire  will  not  kindle  wood  that 
is  still  too  green,  and  I  fear  he  is  in  love  with 
life,  and  youth,  and  freedom. 

I  do  not  wish  to  doubt  the  wisdom  of  the 
August  One,  but  I  think  she  made  a  mistake 
in  her  choice  of  a  bride  for  Chih-mo.  She 
chose  Tai-lo,  the  daughter  of  the  Prefect  of 
Chih-li.  The  arrangements  were  nearly  made, 
the  dowry  even  was  discussed,  but  when  the 
astrologer  cast  their  horoscopes  to  see  if  they 
could  pass  their  life  in  peace  together,  it  was 
found  that  the  ruler  of  Chih-mo's  life  was  a 
lion,  and  that  of  the  bride's,  a  swallow,  so  it  was 
clearly  seen  they  could  not  share  one  rooftree. 
I  fear  (I  would  not  have  this  come  to  the  ears 


54  My    Lady    of    the 

of  thine  Honourable  Mother)  that  some  silver 
was  left  upon  the  doorstep  of  the  astrologer. 
Chih-mo  asked  of  me  the  loan  of  an  hundred 
taels,  and  I  saw  the  wife  of  the  reader  of  the 
stars  pass  by  with  a  new  gown  of  red  and  gold 
brocade. 

I  think  Chih-mo  had  seen  Tai-lo.  Report 
gives  her  small  beauty.  Yet,  as  the  Elder 
One  says,  "Musk  is  known  by  its  perfume,  and 
not  by  the  druggist's  label."  Quite  likely  she 
would  have  made  a  good  wife;  and — we  have 
one  beauty  in  the  household — it  is  enough. 

There  is  much  wailing  in  the  courtyards. 
The  gardener  and  the  bearer  and  the  watchman 
are  having  bound  the  feet  of  their  small  daugh- 
ters. The  saying,  "For  every  pair  of  golden 
lillies  there  is  a  kang  of  tears,"  is  true.  I  am 
so  sorry  for  them.  Just  when  they  want  to 
run  and  play,  they  must  sit  all  day  with  ach- 
ing feet.  My  amah  wished  to  put  on  the 
heavy  bindings,  but  I  would  not  permit  it. 
I  said,  "Do  you  want  little  eyes  to  fill  with 
tears  each  time  they  see  you  coming  across  the 
courtyard?  If  their  grandmothers  do  not 
come,  let  some  old  women  from  the  village  do 
the  cruel  thing." 

The  happy  rains  of  the  spring  are  here.  It 
is  not  the  cold,  drear  rain  of  autumn,  but 


Chinese     Courtyard  55 

dancing,  laughing  rain  that  comes  sweeping 
across  the  valley,  touching  the  rice-fields 
lovingly,  and  bringing  forth  the  young  green 
leaves  of  the  mulberry.  I  hear  it  patter  upon 
the  roof  at  night-time,  and  in  the  morning  all 
the  earth  seems  cleansed  and  new;  fresh 
colours  greet  mine  eye  when  I  throw  back  my 
casement. 

When  wilt  thou  come  to  me,  thou  keeper  of 
my  heart? 

Thy  Wife 


56  My     Lady     of    the 


XVI 

Dear  One, 

"He  whose  faults  are  never  told  him 
Doubtless  deems  the  angels  mould  him." 

That  cannot  be  said  of  three  women  of  thy 
household. 

It  is  Mah-li  this  time  on  whom  the  wrath 
descends.  She  and  Li-ti  were  broidering  in 
the  western  room,  where  they  could  get  the 
last  rays  of  the  sun.  Perhaps  they  were 
speaking  on  forbidden  subjects — I  do  not 
know;  but  thine  Honourable  Mother  entered 
quietly  and  reproved  them,  and  (even  when  I 
write  it  I  blush  for  her)  Mah-li  said  to  her 
Honourable  Mother,  "Only  cats  and  cranes 
and  thieves  walk  silently."  Thy  Mother  was 
speechless  with  anger,  and  justly  so,  and  now 
it  is  decided  that  Mah-li  must  be  married. 
She  needs  a  stronger  hand  than  a  woman's. 
Is  it  not  ridiculous,  little  Mah-li  needing  a 
strong  hand? 

At  first  the  August  One  considered  Meng- 
wheh,  the  prefect  at  Sung-dong.  He  is  old 
and  cross,  but  when  I  remonstrated,  I  was 


Chinese     Courtyard  57 

told  that  he  was  rich.  His  many  tens  of 
thousands  of  sycee  are  supposed  to  weigh  more 
than  youth  and  love.  I  said,  "Though  he 
bar  with  gold  his  silver  door,"  a  man  cannot 
keep  the  wife  who  loves  him  not.  Thine 
Honourable  Mother  thought  more  wisely,  and 
after  many  days  of  consideration  entered  into 
consultation  with  the  family  of  Sheng  Ta-jen 
in  regard  to  his  son.  It  seems  Mah-li  is 
doomed  to  marriage  soon,  and  she  does  not 
know  whether  she  is  happy  or  sorrowful.  She 
is  turned  this  way  and  that,  as  the  seed  of  the 
cotton-tree  is  swayed  by  the  coming  and  going 
of  the  wind.  To-day  she  laughs,  to-morrow 
she  weeps.  Thy  Mother  has  lost  all  patience 
with  her,  and,  as  she  always  does  when  her  own 
words  fail  her,  I  heard  her  quoting  the  Sage: 
"Just  as  ducks'  legs  though  short  cannot  be 
lengthened  without  pain,  nor  cranes'  legs 
though  long  be  shortened  without  misery  to 
the  crane,  neither  can  sense  be  added  to  a 
silly  woman's  head." 

I  feel  that  thine  Honourable  Mother  is 
unkind  to  Mah-li.  She  is  a  flower,  a  flower 
that  has  her  place  in  life  the  same  as  the 
morning-glory,  which  is  loved  just  as  fondly  by 
the  Gods  as  the  pine-tree  which  stands  so 
stately  upon  the  hillside.  She  is  light  and 


58  My    Lady    of    the 

pure  and  dainty  as  the  fragrance  of  perfumed 
air,  and  I  do  not  want  to  see  her  go  to  a  family 
who  will  not  understand  her  youth  and  love 
of  play. 

Mah-li  has  asked  of  me  money,  and  with  it 
bought  a  great  candle  for  each  day,  which  she 
sends  down  the  mountain-side  to  be  placed 
before  Kwan-yin.  I  asked  her  to  tell  me  her 
prayer,  that  needed  so  large  an  offering.  The 
unfilial  girl  said  she  prayed,  "Kwan-yin,  send 
me  a  husband  with  no  family." 

Such  a  lot  of  petty  gossip  I  pour  into  thine 
ears,  yet  thou  wouldst  know  the  happenings 
of  thine  household.  Of  the  world  outside, 
thy  brother  writes  thee.  My  world  is  here 
within  these  walls. 

Thy  Wife 


Chinese     Courtyard  59 


XVII 


Thine  house  is  a  house  of  intrigue.  Deep, 
dark  intrigue  and  plotting.  Thy  wife  has 
lent  herself  to  a  most  unwomanly  thing,  and 
doubtless  thou  wilt  tell  her  so,  but  Mah-li 
begged  so  prettily,  I  could  refuse  her  nothing. 
I  told  thee  in  my  last  letter  that  thine  Honour- 
able Mother  had  been  regarding  the  family  of 
Sheng  Ta-jen  with  a  view  to  his  son  as  husband 
of  Mah-li.  It  is  settled,  and  Mah-li  leaves 
us  in  the  autumn.  None  of  us  except  Chih- 
peh  has  seen  the  young  man,  and  Mah-li  did 
a  most  immodest  thing  the  other  day.  She 
came  to  me  and  asked  me  to  find  out  from 
Chih-peh  if  he  were  handsome,  if  he  were 
young — all  the  questions  that  burn  the  tongue 
of  a  young  girl,  but  which  she  must  keep  within 
tightly  closed  lips  if  she  would  not  be  thought 
unmaidenly.  I  asked  thy  brother;  but  his 
answer  was  not  in  regard  to  the  questions 
Mah-li  wished  so  much  to  know.  So  we 
arranged  a  plan — a  plan  that  caused  me 
many  nights  of  sleeplessness.  It  was  carried 


60  My    Lady    of    the 

out  and — still  the  sky  is  blue,  the  stars  are 
bright  at  night,  and  the  moon  shines  just  as 
softly  on  the  valley. 

The  first  part  of  the  plan  was  for  Li-ti.  She 
must  persuade  Chih-peh  to  ask  Shen-go  to 
spend  the  day  with  him  at  the  Fir-tree 
Monastery.  When  he  knew  the  meaning  of 
the  invitation  he  refused.  He  was  shocked, 
and  properly;  as  it  was  a  thing  unheard-of. 
He  could  not  understand  why  Mah-li  would 
not  be  content  with  her  mother's  choice. 
Li-ti  brought  all  her  little  ways  to  bear — and 
Chih-peh  can  refuse  her  nothing.  At  the 
Feast  of  the  Moon  thy  brother  asked  three 
friends  to  join  him  at  the  monastery  and  stroll 
amongst  its  groves. 

The  rest  of  the  plan  was  for  me  to  carry 
out;  and  I,  thy  wife,  displayed  a  talent  for 
diplomacy.  I  noticed  that  the  cheeks  of  our 
Honourable  Mother  were  pale,  that  she  seemed 
listless,  that  her  step  was  wearied.  I  said 
doubtless  she  was  tired  of  being  shut  within 
the  compound  walls  with  three  aimless, 
foolish  women,  and  proposed  a  feast  or 
pilgrimage.  I  mentioned  the  Goldfish  Pond, 
knowing  she  was  tired  of  it;  spoke  of  the 
Pagoda  on  the  Hills,  knowing  full  well  that 
she  did  not  like  the  priests  therein;  then,  by 


Chinese     Courtyard  61 

chance,  read  from  a  book  the  story  of  the 
two  kings.  It  is  the  tale  of  the  King  of 
Hangchow  and  the  King  of  Soochow  who,  in 
the  olden  time,  divided  our  great  valley 
between  them.  The  King  of  Hangchow  was 
an  old  man,  and  the  cares  of  state  fell  heavily 
upon  his  shoulders.  The  King  of  Soochow 
was  a  young  man,  eaten  up  with  mad  ambi- 
tions. He  began  to  tread  upon  the  lands  of 
the  old  King,  taking  now  a  farmhouse,  now 
a  village,  and  at  last  a  city,  until  the  poor  old 
King  was  threatened  at  his  very  gateway  by 
the  army  of  the  young  man.  The  young 
King  had  strength,  but  the  old  King  had 
guile,  so  he  made  a  peace  with  his  enemy  for 
one  year.  He  sent  him  presents,  costly  silks 
and  teas,  and  pearls  and  jade  and  ginseng, 
and,  last  and  best,  a  beautiful  slave-girl,  the 
most  beautiful  in  the  province.  The  young 
King  was  delighted,  and  forgot  his  warring, 
passing  all  his  days  within  the  women's 
quarters. 

As  the  winter  waned  and  the  spring  came, 
the  slave-girl  sickened,  said  she  panted  for 
the  hillsides,  and  she  pointed  to  the  mountain 
outside  his  city  walls.  He  was  a  foolish  King, 
and  he  builded  for  her  a  palace,  and  she  moved 
there  with  her  women.  The  King  was  lonely 


62  My    Lady    of    the 

in  the  city,  and  he  passed  his  days  with  the 
women  in  the  palace  on  the  mountain.  While 
living  there  in  pleasure,  and  his  army  in  the 
city,  the  old  King  of  Hangchow  sent  his 
soldiers;  and  soon  there  was  no  King  of  Soo- 
chow,  only  a  slave-girl  decked  with  many 
jewels  was  taken  back  with  honour  to  the  old 
King's  city. 

I  read  all  this  to  thine  Honourable  Mother, 
and  told  her  we  could  see  the  ruins  of  the 
fish-pond,  of  the  palace,  see  the  fallen  marbles 
from  the  tea-house,  and — the  chairs  were 
ordered,  and  we  went.  We  wandered  over 
deserted  pathways,  saw  the  lotus  pools  once 
filled  with  goldfish,  picked  our  way  through 
lonely  courtyards,  climbed  the  sunken  steps 
of  terraces  that  had  once  been  gay  with  flow- 
ers. It  all  was  melancholy,  this  palace  built 
for  pleasure,  now  a  mass  of  crumbling  ruins, 
and  it  saddened  us.  We  sat  upon  the  King's 
bench  that  overlooked  the  plain,  and  from  it 
I  pointed  out  the  Fir-tree  Monastery  in  the 
distance.  I  spoke  of  their  famous  tea,  sun- 
dried  with  the  flowers  of  jessamine,  and  said 
it  might  bring  cheer  and  take  away  the  gloom 
caused  by  the  sight  of  death  and  vanished 
grandeurs  now  around  us. 

We  were  carried  swiftly  along  the  pathways 


Chinese     Courtyard  63 

that  wound  in  and  out  past  farm  villages  and 
rest-houses  until  we  came  to  the  monastery, 
which  is  like  a  yellow  jewel  in  its  setting  of 
green  fir-trees.  The  priests  made  us  most 
welcome,  and  we  drank  of  their  tea,  which  has 
not  been  overpraised,  sitting  at  a  great  open 
window  looking  down  upon  the  valley.  Stroll- 
ing in  the  courtyard  was  Chih-peh  with  his 
three  friends.  Mah-li  never  raised  her  eyes; 
she  sat  as  maidens  sit  in  public,  but — she 
saw. 

We  came  home  another  pathway,  to  pass 
the  resting-place  of  Sheng-dong,  the  man  who 
at  the  time  of  famine  fed  the  poor  and  gave  his 
all  to  help  the  needy.  The  Gods  so  loved  him 
that  when  his  body  was  carried  along  the  road- 
way to  the  Resting-place  of  his  Ancestors,  all 
the  stones  stood  up  to  pay  him  reverence. 
One  can  see  them  now,  standing  straight  and 
stiff,  as  if  waiting  for  his  command  to  lie  down 
again. 

Art  thou  dissatisfied  with  me?  Have  I 
done  wrong?  Dear  One,  it  means  so  much  to 
Mah-li.  Let  her  dream  these  months  of  wait- 
ing. It  is  hard  to  keep  wondering,  doubting, 
fearing  one  knows  not  what,  hoping  as  young 
girls  hope.  But  now  she  has  seen  him.  To 
me  he  was  just  a  straight-limbed,  bright- 


64  My     Lady    of    the 

faced  boy;  to  her  he  is  a  God.  There  are  no 
teeth  so  white,  no  hair  so  black,  and  man  were 
not  born  who  walked  with  such  a  noble  stride. 
It  will  make  the  summer  pass  more  quickly, 
and  the  thought  of  the  marriage-chair  will  not 
be  to  her  the  gateway  of  a  prison. 

Art  thou  not  tired  of  that  far-off  country? 
Each  time  I  break  the  seal  of  thy  dear  letter  I 
say,  "Perhaps  this  time — it  holds  for  me  my 
happiness.  It  will  say,  'I  am  coming  home  to 
thee'."  I  am  longing  for  that  message. 

Thy  Wife 


Chinese     Courtyard  65 


XVIII 

My  Dear  One, 

It  will  soon  be  the  Feast  of  the  Springtime. 
Even  now  the  roads  are  covered  with  the 
women  coming  to  the  temple  carrying  their 
baskets  of  spirit  money  and  candles  to  lay 
before  the  Buddha. 

Spring  will  soon  be  truly  here;  the  buds  are 
everywhere.  Everything  laughs  from  the  sheer 
joy  of  laughter.  The  sun  looks  down  upon  the 
water  in  the  canal  and  it  breaks  into  a  thou- 
sand little  ripples  from  pure  gladness.  I  too 
am  happy,  and  I  want  to  give  of  my  happiness. 
I  have  put  a  great  kang  of  tea  down  by  the 
rest-house  on  the  tow-path,  so  that  they  who 
thirst  may  drink.  Each  morning  I  send 
Chang-tai,  the  gate-keeper,  down  to  the  man 
who  lives  in  the  little  reed  hut  he  has  builded 
by  the  grave  of  his  father.  For  three  years 
he  will  live  there,  to  show  to  the  world  his 
sorrow.  I  think  it  very  worthy  and  filial  of 
him,  so  I  send  him  rice  each  morning.  I  have 
also  done  another  thing  to  express  the  joy  that 
is  deep  within  my  heart.  The  old  abbot,  out 


66  My    Lady    of    the 

of  thankfulness  that  the  tall  poles  were  not 
erected  before  the  monastery  gateway,  has 
turned  the  fields  back  of  the  temple  into  a 
freeing-place  for  animals.  There  one  may 
acquire  merit  by  buying  a  sheep,  a  horse,  a 
dog,  a  bird,  or  a  snake  that  is  to  be  killed,  and 
turning  it  loose  where  it  may  live  and  die  a 
natural  death,  as  the  Gods  intended  from  the 
beginning.  I  have  given  him  a  sum  of  money, 
large  in  his  eyes  but  small  when  compared  to 
my  happiness,  to  aid  him  in  this  worthy  work. 
I  go  over  in  the  morning  and  look  at  the  poor 
horses  and  the  dogs,  and  wonder  whose  soul  is 
regarding  me  from  out  of  their  tired  eyes. 

Let  me  hear  that  thou  art  coming,  man  of 
mine,  and  I  will  gather  dewdrops  from  the 
cherry-trees  and  bathe  me  in  their  perfume 
to  give  me  beauty  that  will  hold  thee  close  to 
me. 

I  am 

Thy  Wife 


Chinese     Courtyard  67 


XIX 

My  Dear  One, 

I  have  received  thy  letter  telling  me  thou 
wilt  not  be  here  until  the  summer  comes. 
Then,  I  must  tell  thee  my  news,  as  the  spring- 
time is  here,  the  flowers  are  budding,  the  grass 
is  green,  soon  the  plum-tree  in  the  courtyard 
will  be  white.  I  am  jealous  of  this  paper  that 
will  see  the  delight  and  joy  in  thine  eyes.  In 
the  evening  I  watch  the  rice  boats  pass  along 
the  canal,  where  the  water  is  green  and  silvery 
like  the  new  leaves  of  the  willow,  and  I  say, 
"Perhaps  when  you  return,  I  shall  be  the 
mother  of  a  child."  Ah! — I  have  told  thee. 
Does  it  bring  thee  happiness,  my  lord  ?  Does 
it  make  a  quick  little  catch  in  thy  breath  ? 
Does  thy  pulse  quicken  at  the  thought  that 
soon  thou  wilt  be  a  father? 

Thou  wilt  never  know  what  this  has  meant 
to  me.  It  has  made  the  creature  live  that  was 
within  my  soul,  and  my  whole  being  is  bathed 
with  its  glory.  Thou  wilt  never  know  how 
many  times  I  have  gone  down  the  pathway  to 
the  temple  and  asked  this  great  boon  of  our 


68  My     Lady     of    the 

Lady  of  Mercy.  She  granted  it,  and  my  life 
is  made  perfect.  I  am  indeed  a  woman,  ful- 
filling a  woman's  destiny.  If  a  woman  bear 
not  sons  for  her  lord,  what  worth  her  life? 
Do  we  not  know  that  the  first  of  the  seven 
causes  for  putting  away  a  wife  is  that  she 
brings  no  sons  into  the  world  to  worship  at  the 
graves  of  her  husband's  ancestors?  But  I, 
Kwei-li,  that  will  not  be  said  of  me. 

Sometimes  I  think,  "If  something  should 
happen;  if  the  Gods  should  be  jealous  of  my 
happiness  and  I  should  not  see  thee  more?" 
Then  the  heart  of  the  woman  throbs  with  fear, 
and  I  throw  myself  at  the  feet  of  Kwan-yin 
and  beg  for  strength.  She  gives  me  peace  and 
brings  to  my  remembrance  that  the  bond  of 
fate  is  sealed  within  the  moon.  There  is  no 
place  for  fear,  for  aught  but  love;  my  heart  is 
filled  so  with  its  happiness. 

Thy  Wife 


I  Page  67] 


T  WA  TCH  the  rice  boats  pans  along  the  canal. 


fTlHE  singers  and  the  fortune-tellers  all  have 
found  the  path  that  leads  up  to  our  gateway. 


[  Page  71 J 


Chinese     Courtyard  69 


XX 

My  Dear  One, 

The  spring  has  come,  and  with  it  some  new 
pulse  of  life  beats  through  my  quiet  veins.  I 
spend  long  hours  upon  the  terrace,  breathing  in 
the  perfume  of  the  many  flowers.  The  cherry- 
blossoms  are  a  glory.  The  whole  steep  hill- 
side is  covered  with  a  fairy  lace,  as  if  some 
God  knew  how  we  hungered  after  beauty  and 
gave  us  these  pink  blossoms  to  help  us  to 
forget  the  bare  cold  earth  of  winter. 

It  is  the  time  of  praying,  and  all  the  women 
with  their  candles  and  their  incense  are 
bending  knees  and  chanting  prayers  to  Kwan- 
yin  for  the  blessing  of  a  son.  There  is  a 
pilgrimage  to  the  Kwem-li  Pagoda.  I  can  see 
it  in  the  distance,  with  its  lotus  bells  that 
sway  and  ring  with  each  light  breath  of  wind. 
One  does  not  think  of  it  as  a  thing  of  brick  and 
mortar,  or  as  a  many-storied  temple,  but  as 
a  casket  whose  jewels  are  the  prayers  of  wait- 
ing, hoping  women. 

You  ask  me  how  I  pass  my  days?  I  can- 
not tell.  At  dawn,  I  wake  with  hope  and  listen 


70  My    Lady    of    the 

to  the  song  of  the  meadow-lark.  At  noon,  I 
dream  of  my  great  happiness  to  come.  At 
sunset,  I  am  swept  away  into  the  land  of  my 
golden  dreams,  into  the  heart  of  my  golden 
world  that  is  peopled  with  but  three — Thou, 
Him,  and  Me.  I  am  drifting  happily,  sleepily, 
forgetting  care,  waiting  for  the  Gods  to  bring 
my  joy. 

Thy  Wife 


Chinese     Courtyard  71 


XXI 

My  Dear  One, 

My  courtyard  is  filled  with  the  sounds  of 
chatting  women.  I  have  sent  for  the  sewing- 
women  and  those  who  do  embroidery,  and  the 
days  are  passed  in  making  little  garments. 
We  are  all  so  busy;  Li-ti,  Mah-li,  even  thine 
Honourable  Mother  takes  again  the  needle 
and  shows  us  how  she  broidered  jackets  for 
thee  when  thou  wert  young.  The  piles  of 
clothing  grow  each  day,  and  I  touch  them 
and  caress  them  and  imagine  I  can  see  them 
folding  close  a  tiny  form.  There  are  jackets, 
trousers,  shoes,  tiny  caps  and  thick  warm 
blankets. 

I  send  for  Blind  Chun,  the  story-teller,  and 
he  makes  the  hours  pass  quickly  with  his  tales 
of  by-gone  days.  The  singers  and  the  fortune- 
tellers all  have  found  the  path  that  leads  up 
to  our  gateway,  knowing  they  will  find  a 
welcome. 

I  am 

Thy  Happy  Wife 


72  My    Lady     of    the 


XXII 

I  send  thee  cherry-blossoms.  They  grew 
within  thy  courtyard,  and  each  tiny  petal  will 
bring  to  thee  remembrance  of  thy  wife  who 
loves  thee  well. 


Chinese     Courtyard  73 


XXIII 

If  thou  couldst  see  my  courtyard !  It  seems 
carpeted  with  snow,  so  many  are  the  cherry- 
blossoms  on  its  pavement.  They  say  I  am 
untidy  that  I  permit  it  to  be  untouched  by 
broom  or  brush.  It  is  cleaned  and  spot- 
less all  the  year,  save  at  this  the  time  of 
cherry-blossoms,  when  'tis  untrodden  and 
unswept. 

I  cannot  write  thee  merely  household  cares 
and  gossip.  I  am  so  filled  with  happiness,  I 
can  only  dream  and  wonder.  Joy  is  beating 
with  his  wings  just  outside  my  open  window, 
and  soon  all  the  gates  of  Heaven  will  be  opened 
wide  to  me. 

Thy  Wife 


74  My    Lady    of    the 


XXIV 

He  is  here,  beloved,  thy  son!  I  put  out 
my  hand  and  touch  him,  and  the  breath  of  the 
wind  through  the  pine-trees  brings  the  music 
of  the  Gods  to  me.  He  is  big  and  strong  and 
beautiful.  I  see  in  his  eyes  as  in  a  mirror  the 
reflection  of  thy  dear  face,  and  I  know  he  is 
thine  and  mine,  and  we  three  are  one.  He  is 
my  joy,  my  son,  my  first-born.  I  am  tired, 
my  lord,  the  brush  is  heavy,  but  it  is  such  a 
happy,  happy  tired. 

Thy  Wife 


Chinese     C  ourtyard  75 


XXV 

Is  there  anything  so  wonderful  as  being  the 
mother  of  a  son?  I  simply  sing,  and  laugh, 
and  live — oh,  how  Hive  the  long  days  through. 
I  have  happiness  enough  for  all  the  world,  and 
I  want  to  give  and  give  and  give.  Thy  mother 
says  that  all  the  beggers  within  the  province 
know  there  is  rice  outside  our  gateway;  but 
when  I  look  into  my  son's  eyes,  and  feel  his 
tiny  fingers  groping  in  my  neck,  I  feel  I  must 
give  of  my  plenty  to  those  who  have  no  joy. 

Oh,  husband  mine,  come  back  and  see  thy 
son! 


76  My    Lady     of    the 


XXVI 

Dost  thou  know  what  love  is  ?  Thou  canst 
not  till  thou  boldest  Love  itself  within  thy 
very  arms.  I  thought  I  loved  thee.  I  smile 
now  at  the  remembrance  of  that  feeble  flicker- 
ing flame  that  was  as  like  unto  the  real  love 
as  the  faint,  cold  beam  of  the  candle  is  to  the 
rays  of  the  glorious  sun.  Now — now — thou 
art  the  father  of  my  son.  Thou  hast  a  new 
place  in  my  heart.  The  tie  that  binds  our 
hearts  together  is  stronger  than  a  rope  of 
twisted  bamboo,  it  is  a  bond,  a  love  bond, 
that  never  can  be  severed.  I  am  the  mother 
of  thy  first-born — thou  hast  given  me  my 
man-child.  Love  thee — love  thee! — now  I 
know! 

I  am  Thine  Own 


Chinese     Courtyard  77 


XXVII 

I  am  wroth  with  thy  brother  Chih-peh. 
He  is  a  man  of  very  small  discernment.  He 
does  not  see  the  wonders  of  thy  son.  He  says 
he  cannot  see  that  he  is  a  child  of  more  than 
mortal  beauty.  I  sorrow  for  him.  The  Gods 
have  surely  drawn  a  film  before  his  eyes. 

But  I  cannot  bear  resentment,  there  is  no 
room  in  me  for  aught  but  love  and  the  days 
are  far  too  short  to  hold  my  happiness.  I 
pass  them  near  my  baby.  I  croon  to  him 
sweet  lullabies  at  which  the  others  laugh.  I 
say,  "Thou  dost  not  understand?  Of  course 
not,  'tis  the  language  of  the  Gods,"  and  as  he 
sleeps  I  watch  his  small  face  grow  each  day 
more  like  to  thine.  I  give  long  hours  to  think- 
ing of  his  future.  He  must  be  a  man  like  thee, 
strong,  noble,  kindly,  bearing  thy  great  name 
with  honour,  so  that  in  years  to  come  it  will 
be  said,  "The  first-born  son  of  Kwei-li  was  a 
great  and  worthy  man." 

At  night  I  lie  beside  him  and  am  jealous  of 
the  sleep  that  takes  him  from  my  sight.  The 
morning  comes  and  sets  my  heart  to  beating 


78 


at  the  thought  that  one  more  long,  sweet  day 
has  come  to  me  in  which  to  guard,  and  love, 
and  cherish  him. 

Thy  Happy  Wife 


Chinese     Courtyard  79 


XXVIII 

It  has  been  a  wonderful  day.  Thy  son  has 
had  his  first  reception.  It  is  just  one  moon 
ago  since  I  found  him  lying  by  my  side,  and 
now  we  have  had  the  feast  of  the  shaving  of 
the  head.  All  our  friends  came,  and  they 
brought  him  beautiful  presents.  Chih-lo  gave 
a  cap  with  all  the  Gods  upon  the  front  and 
long  red  tassels  to  hang  down  by  each  ear. 
Li-ti  gave  him  shoes  that  she  herself  had 
broidered,  with  a  cat's  face  on  the  toes  and 
the  ears  and  whiskers  outstanding.  They  will 
make  him  careful  of  his  steps  and  sure-footed 
as  the  cat.  Mah-li  gave  him  a  most  wonder- 
ful silver  box  to  hang  around  his  neck  and  in 
which  I  will  keep  his  amulets.  There  were 
many  things  which  I  will  not  take  the  time  to 
tell  thee.  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  thy  son 
behaved  himself  unseemly.  He  screamed  and 
kicked  as  the  barber  shaved  his  tiny  head.  I 
was  much  distressed,  but  they  tell  me  it  is  a 
sign  that  he  will  growT  to  be  a  valiant  man. 

I  gave  a  feast,  and  such  a  feast!  It  will  be 
remembered  for  many  moons.  Even  thine 


80  My    Lady    of    the 

Honourable  Mother  said  I  showed  the  knowl- 
edge of  what  was  due  my  guests  upon  so  great 
an  occasion.  We  also  gave  to  him  his  milk 
name.  It  is  Ten  Thousand  Springtimes,  as  he 
came  at  blossom-time;  but  I  call  him  that  only 
within  my  heart,  as  I  do  not  wish  the  jealous 
Gods  to  hear.  When  I  speak  of  him,  I  say 
"The  Stupid  One,"  "The  Late-Born,"  so 
they  will  think  I  do  not  care  for  him  and  will 
not  covet  me  my  treasure. 

I  am  tired;  it  has  been  a  happy  day.     The 
Gods  are  good  to 

Kwei-li 


Chinese     Courtyard  81 


XXIX 

My  Dear  One, 

Another  marriage  within  our  compound. 
Dost  thou  remember  the  servant  Cho-to,  who 
came  to  us  soon  after  I  became  thy  bride? 
She  will  soon  marry  a  man  in  the  village  of 
Soong-tong,  and  she  is  very  happy.  She  has 
not  seen  him,  of  course,  but  her  mother  says 
he  is  good  and  honest  and  will  make  for  her  a 
suitable  husband.  I  talked  to  her  quite  seri- 
ously, as  my  age  and  many  moons  of  marriage 
allow  me.  I  told  her  that  only  by  practising 
modesty,  humility  and  gentleness  could  she 
walk  safely  on  the  path  that  leads  to  being  the 
mother  of  sons. 

To  be  the  mother  of  sons  is  not  always  a 
happiness.  Ling-ti,  the  shoemaker,  was  here 
this  morning,  and  he  was  in  great  distress. 
His  baby,  three  months  old,  died  with  a  fever 
and  he  had  no  money  to  pay  for  burial.  This 
morning  he  arose  early,  before  the  mother 
awakened,  and  took  it  to  the  baby  tower  out- 
side the  city.  It  is  lying  in  there  now,  with 
all  the  other  little  children  whose  parents  were 


82  My    Lady    of    the 

too  poor  to  give  them  proper  burial.  It  made 
a  quick,  sad  hurt  within  me,  and  I  went 
quickly  to  find  my  baby.  Thou  wilt  not 
laugh,  but  I  have  pierced  his  right  ear  and  put 
a  ring  therein,  so  the  Gods  will  think  he  is  a 
girl  and  not  desire  him. 
I  hear  thy  son. 

Thy  Wife 


Chinese     Courtyard  83 


XXX 

My  Dear  One, 

There  has  been  great  talk  of  evil  eyes. 
Not  that  I  believe  the  servants'  tales;  but — 
thine  Honourable  Mother,  Li-ti,  and  thy  wife 
have  been  to  the  Holy  Man  who  dwells  under- 
neath the  Great  Magnolia-tree  near  the  street 
of  the  Leaning  Willow.  He  lives  alone  within 
a  little  house  of  matting,  and  has  acquired 
great  merit  by  his  virtuous  acts.  He  wears 
around  his  unbound  hair  a  band  of  metal  that 
is  the  outward  sign  of  his  great  holiness.  He 
lives  alone  in  peace  and  with  untroubled  mind. 
In  his  great  wisdom  he  has  learned  that  peace 
is  the  end  and  aim  of  life;  not  triumph,  suc- 
cess, nor  riches,  but  that  the  greatest  gift  from 
all  the  Gods  is  peace.  I  purchased  from  him 
an  amulet  for  my  "Stupid  One,"  my  treasure, 
as  some  one  might  come  within  our  courtyard 
and  cast  his  eye  upon  our  child  with  bad  intent. 

Come  to  me,  my  husband.  Tell  me  thou 
art  coming.  Thou  wilt  find  me  standing  in 
the  outer  archway  with  thy  son  within  mine 
arms.  I  long  for  thee. 

Thy  Wife 


84  My    Lady    of    the 


XXXI 

My  days  are  filled  with  happiness.  I 
go  out  on  the  terrace  and  look  far  down 
the  hillside  that  is  covered  with  azaleas,  pink 
and  orange  and  mauve.  I  hold  my  son  and 
say,  "Look,  thy  father  will  come  to  us  from 
the  city  yonder.  Our  eyes  of  love  will  see 
him  from  far  away,  there  by  the  willow- 
pattern  tea-house.  He  will  come  nearer— 
nearer — and  we  will  not  hear  the  beat  of  his 
bearers'  feet  upon  the  pathway  because  of 
the  beating  of  our  hearts."  He  smiles  at  me, 
he  understands.  He  is  so  wonderful,  thy  son. 
I  would  "string  the  sunbeams  for  his  necklace 
or  draw  down  the  moon  with  cords  to  canopy 
his  bed." 

Come  back  and  see  thy  son. 

Kwei-li 


Chinese     Courtyard  85 


XXXII 

My  Dear  One, 

Thy  letter  has  come  saying  thou  wilt  be 
here  soon.  It  came  on  the  day  I  went  to  the 
temple  to  make  my  offering  of  thanks  for  the 
gift  of  our  son. 

I  put  on  my  richest  gown,  the  blue  one  with 
the  broidery  of  gold.  I  dressed  my  hair  with 
jessamine  flowers,  and  wore  all  the  jewels  thou 
hast  given  me.  My  boy  was  in  his  jacket 
of  red,  his  trousers  of  mauve,  his  shoes  of 
purple,  and  his  cap  with  the  many  Gods. 
When  I  was  seated  in  the  chair  he  was  placed 
in  my  lap,  and  a  man  was  sent  ahead  with 
cash  to  give  the  beggars,  because  I  wished  all 
the  world  to  be  happy  on  this  my  day  of 
rejoicing. 

My  bearers  carried  me  to  the  very  steps  of 
the  throne  on  which  Kwan-yin  was  seated. 
I  made  my  obeisance,  I  lighted  the  large  red 
candles  and  placed  them  before  the  Goddess 
of  Heaven.  Then  I  took  our  son  before  the 
Buddha,  the  Name,  the  Lord  of  Light,  the  Ail- 
Powerful,  and  touched  his  head  three  times  to 


86  My    Lady    of    the 

the  mat,  to  show  that  he  would  be  a  faithful 
follower  and  learn  to  keep  the  law. 

We  went  home  by  the  valley  road,  and  my 
heart  kept  beating  in  tune  to  the  pat-pat  of 
the  bearers'  feet  on  the  pathway.  It  was  all 
so  beautiful.  The  trailing  vines  on  the  moun- 
tain-side, the  ferns  in  the  cool  dark  places,  the 
rich  green  leaves  of  the  mulberry-trees,  the 
farmers  in  the  paddy  fields,  all  seemed  filled 
with  the  joy  of  life.  And  I,  Kwei-li,  going 
along  in  my  chair  with  my  son  on  my  knee, 
was  the  happiest  of  them  all.  The  Gods  have 
given  me  everything;  they  have  nothing  more 
to  bestow.  I  am  glad  I  have  gone  to  the 
mountain-side  each  day  to  thank  them  for 
their  gifts. 

The  Gods  are  good,  my  loved  one,  they  are 
good  to  thy 

Kwei-li 


I 


Chinese     Courtyard  87 


XXXIII 

I  am  alone  on  the  mountain-top.  I  have 
gone  the  pathway  the  last  time  to  lay  my 
offering  at  the  feet  of  Kwan-yin.  She  does 
not  hear  my  voice.  There  is  no  Goddess  of 
Mercy.  She  is  a  thing  of  gold  and  wood,  and 
she  has  mocked  my  despair,  has  laughed  at 
the  heart  that  is  within  me,  that  is  alive  and 
full  of  an  anguish  such  as  she  has  never 
known. 

My  son,  my  man-child  is  dead.  The  life 
has  gone  from  his  body,  the  breath  from  his 
lips.  I  have  held  him  all  the  night  close  to 
my  heart  and  it  does  not  give  him  warmth. 
They  have  taken  him  from  me  and  told  me  he 
has  gone  to  the  Gods.  There  are  no  Gods. 
There  are  no  Gods.  I  am  alone. 


88  My    Lady     of    the 


XXXIV 

He  had  thine  eyes — he  was  like  to  thee. 
Thou  wilt  never  know  thy  son  and  mine,  my 
Springtime.  Why  could  they  not  have  left 
thy  son  for  thee  to  see  ?  He  was  so  strong  and 
beautiful,  my  first-born. 


Chinese     Courtyard  89 


XXXV 

Do  not  chide  me.  I  cannot  write.  What 
do  I  do  ?  I  do  not  know.  I  lie  long  hours  and 
watch  the  tiny  mites  that  live  within  the  sun's 
bright  golden  rays,  and  say,  "Why  could  I 
not  exchange  my  womanhood,  that  hopes  and 
loves  and  sorrows,  for  one  of  those  small 
dancing  spots  within  the  sunbeams  ?  At  least 
they  do  not  feel." 

At  night  sleep  does  not  touch  my  eyelids. 
I  lie  upon  the  terrace.  I  will  not  go  within 
my  chamber,  where  'tis  gloom  and  darkness. 
I  watch  the  stars,  a  silver,  mocking  throng, 
that  twinkle  at  me  coldly,  and  then  I  see  the 
moon  mount  slowly  her  pathway  of  the  skies. 
The  noises  of  the  night  come  to  me  softly,  as 
if  they  knew  my  sorrow,  and  the  croaking 
frogs  and  the  crickets  that  find  lodging  by  the 
lotus  pool  seem  to  feel  with  me  my  loneliness, 
so  plaintive  is  their  cry. 

I  feel  the  dawn  will  never  come,  as  if  'twere 
dead  or  slumbered ;  but  when  at  last  he  comes, 
I  watch  him  touch  the  hillside,  trees,  and 
temples  with  soft  grey  fingers,  and  bring  to  me 


90  My    Lady    of    the 

a  beauty  one  does  not  see  by  day.  The  night 
winds  pass  with  sighs  among  the  pine-trees, 
and  in  passing  give  a  loving  touch  to  bells 
upon  pagodas  that  bring  their  music  faint  to 
me.  The  dawn  is  not  the  golden  door  of 
happiness.  It  only  means  another  day  has 
come  and  I  must  smile  and  talk  and  live  as 
if  my  heart  were  here. 

Oh,  man  of  mine,  if  but  thy  dream  touch 
would  come  and  bid  me  slumber,  I  would 
obey. 

Thy  Wife 


Chinese     Courtyard  91 


XXXVI 

They  have  put  a  baby  in  my  arms,  a  child 
found  on  the  tow-path,  a  beggar  child.  I  felt 
I  could  not  place  another  head  where  our  dear 
boy  had  lain,  and  I  sat  stiff  and  still,  and  tried 
to  push  away  the  little  body  pressing  close 
against  me;  but  at  touch  of  baby  mouth  and 
fingers,  springs  that  were  dead  seemed  stirring 
in  my  heart  again.  At  last  I  could  not  bear 
it,  and  I  leaned  my  face  against  her  head  and 
crooned  His  lullaby: 

"The  Gods  on  the  roof  tree  guard  pigeons  from 

harm 
And  my  little  pigeon  is  safe  in  my  arms." 

I  cannot  tell  thee  more.  My  heart  is 
breaking. 


92  My    Lady    of    the 


XXXVII 

I  have  given  to  this  stranger-child,  this  child 
left  to  die  upon  the  tow-path,  the  clothes  that 
were  our  son's.  She  was  cold,  and  thy  Mother 
came  to  me  so  gently  and  said,  "Kwei-li, 
hast  thou  no  clothing  for  the  child  that  was 
found  by  thy  servants? "  I  saw  her  meaning, 
and  I  said,  "Would'st  thou  have  me  put  the 
clothing  over  which  I  have  wept,  and  that 
is  now  carefully  laid  away  in  the  camphor- 
wood  box,  upon  this  child?"  She  said — and 
thou  would'st  not  know  thy  Mother's  voice, 
her  bitter  words  are  only  as  the  rough  shell  of 
the  lichee  nut  that  covers  the  sweet  meat 
hidden  within — she  said,  "Why  not, dear  one? 
This  one  needs  them,  and  the  hours  thou 
passest  with  them  are  only  filled  with  saddened 
memories."  I  said  to  her,  "This  is  a  girl,  a 
beggar  child.  I  will  not  give  to  her  the  cloth- 
ing of  my  son.  Each  time  I  looked  upon 
her  it  would  be  a  knife  plunged  in  my  heart." 
She  said  to  me,  "Kwei-li,  thou  art  not  a  child, 
thou  art  a  woman.  Of  what  worth  that  cloth- 
ing lying  in  that  box  of  camphor-wood? 


Chinese     Courtyard  93 

Does  it  bring  back  thy  son?  Some  day 
thou  wilt  open  it,  and  there  will  be  nothing 
but  dust  which  will  reproach  thee.  Get  them 
and  give  them  to  this  child  which  has  come 
to  us  out  of  the  night." 

I  went  to  the  box  and  opened  it,  and  they 
lay  there,  the  little  things  that  had  touched 
his  tiny  body.  I  gave  them,  the  trousers  of 
purple,  the  jackets  of  red,  the  embroidered 
shoes,  the  caps  with  the  many  Buddhas.  I 
gave  them  all  to  the  begger  child. 

I  am 

Thy  Wife 


94  My    Lady    of    the 


XXXVIII 

I  am  reproached  because  I  will  not  go  to 
the  temple.  It  is  filled  with  the  sounds  of 
chanting  which  comes  to  me  faintly  as  I  lie 
upon  the  terrace.  There  are  women  there, 
happy  women,  with  their  babies  in  their  arms, 
while  mine  are  empty.  There  are  others 
there  inp  sorrow,  laying  their  offerings  at  the 
feet  of  Kwan-yin.  They  do  not  know  that 
she  does  not  feel,  nor  care,  for  womankind. 
She  sits  upon  her  lotus  throne  and  laughs  at 
mothers  in  despair.  How  can  she  feel,  how 
can  she  know,  that  thing  of  gilded  wood  and 
plaster  ? 

I  stay  upon  my  terrace,  I  live  alone 
within  my  court  of  silent  dreams.  For  me 
there  are  no  Gods. 


Chinese     Courtyard  95 


XXXIX 

They  have  brought  to  me  from  the  market- 
place a  book  of  a  new  God.  I  would  not  read 
it.  I  said,  "There  are  too  many  Gods — why 
add  a  new  one  ?  I  have  no  candles  or  incense 
to  lay  before  an  image."  But — I  read  and 
saw  within  its  pages  that  He  gave  rest  and 
love  and  peace.  Peace — what  the  holy  man 
desired,  the  end  of  all  things — peace.  And  I, 
I  do  not  want  to  lose  the  gift  of  memory;  I 
want  remembrance,  but  I  want  it  without 
pain. 

The  cherry-blossoms  have  bloomed  and 
passed  away.  They  lingered  but  a  moment's 
space,  and,  like  my  dream  of  spring,  they  died. 
But,  passing,  they  have  left  behind  the  knowl- 
edge that  we'll  see  them  once  again.  There 
must  be  something,  somewhere,  to  speak  to 
despairing  mothers  and  say,  "Weep  not! 
You  will  see  your  own  again." 

I  do  not  want  a  God  of  temples.  I  have 
cried  my  prayers  to  Kwan-yin,  and  they  have 
come  back  to  me  like  echoes  from  a  deadened 
wall.  I  want  a  God  to  come  to  me  at  night- 


96  My  Lady  of  the  Chinese  Courtyard 

time,  when  I  am  lying  lonely,  wide-eyed, 
staring  into  darkness,  with  all  my  body  aching 
for  the  touch  of  tiny  hands.  I  want  that  God 
who  says,  "I  give  thee  Peace,"  to  stand  close 
by  my  pillow  and  touch  my  wearied  eyelids 
and  bring  me  rest. 

I  have  been  dead — enclosed  within  a  tomb 
of  sorrow  and  despair;  but  now,  at  words  but 
dimly  understood,  a  faint  new  life  seems  stir- 
ring deep  within  me.  A  Voice  speaks  to  me 
from  out  these  pages,  a  Voice  that  says, 
"Come  unto  Me  all  ye  weary  and  heavy- 
laden,  and  I  will  give  thee  rest."  My  long- 
ing soul  cries  out,  "Oh,  great  and  unknown 
God,  give  me  this  rest!"  I  am  alone,  a 
woman,  helpless,  stretching  out  my  arms  in 
darkness,  but  into  my  world  of  gloom  has  come 
a  faint  dim  star,  a  star  of  hope  that  says  to 
me,  "There  is  a  God." 


PART  II 


PREFACE 

THESE  letters  were  written  by  Kwei-li 
twenty-five  years  after  those  written  to  her 
husband  when  she  was  a  young  girl  of 
eighteen.  They  are,  therefore,  the  letters  of 
the  present-day  Chinese  woman  of  the  old 
school,  a  woman  who  had  by  education 
and  environment  exceptional  opportunities  to 
learn  of  the  modern  world,  but  who,  like  every 
Eastern  woman,  clings  with  almost  desperate 
tenacity  to  the  traditions  and  customs  of  her 
race.  Indeed,  however  the  youth  of  Oriental 
countries  may  be  changing,  their  mothers 
always  exhibit  that  characteristic  of  woman- 
hood, conservatism,  which  is  to  them  the  safe- 
guard of  their  homes.  Unlike  the  Western 
woman,  accustomed  to  a  broader  horizon,  the 
woman  of  China,  secluded  for  generations 
within  her  narrow  courtyards,  prefers  the  ways 
and  manners  which  she  knows,  rather  than 
flying  to  ills  she  knows  not  of.  It  is  this 
self -protective  instinct  that  makes  the  Eastern 
woman  the  foe  to  those  innovations  which  are 
slowly  but  surely  changing  the  face  of  the 
entire  Eastern  world. 

99 


100  Preface 

The  former  letters  were  written  out  of  the 
quiet,  domestic  scenes  of  the  primitive,  old 
China,  while  the  present  letters  come  out  of 
the  confused  revolutionary  atmosphere  of  the 
new  China.  Kwei-li's  patriotism  and  hatred 
of  the  foreigner  grows  out  of  the  fact  that,  as 
wife  of  the  governor  of  one  of  the  chief  prov- 
inces, she  had  been  from  the  beginning  en 
rapport  with  the  intrigues,  the  gossip,  and  the 
rumours  of  a  revolution  which,  for  intricacy 
of  plot  and  hidden  motive,  is  incomparable 
with  any  previous  national  change  on  record. 
Her  attitude  toward  education  as  seen  in  her 
relationship  with  her  son  educated  in  England 
and  America  reveals  the  attitude  of  the  average 
Chinese  father  and  mother  if  they  would  allow 
their  inner  feelings  to  speak. 

Kwei-li's  religion  likewise  exhibits  the  tend- 
ency of  religious  attitude  on  the  part  of  the 
real  Chinese,  especially  those  of  the  older 
generation.  It  is  touched  here  and  there  by 
the  vital  spark  of  Christianity,  but  at  the  cen- 
tre continues  to  be  Chinese  and  inseparably 
associated  with  the  worship  of  ancestors  and 
the  reverence  for  those  gods  whose  influence 
has  been  woven  into  the  early  years  of  im- 
pressionable life. 

That  the  hope  of  the  educational,  social, 


Preface  101 

and  religious  change  in  China  rests  with  the 
new  generation  is  evident  to  all.  The  Chinese 
father  and  mother  will  sail  in  the  wooden 
ships  which  their  sons  and  daughters  are 
beginning  to  leave  for  barks  of  steel. 

There  is  little  doubt  that  new  China  will 
be  Westernised  in  every  department  of  her 
being.  No  friend  of  China  hopes  for  such 
sudden  changes,  however,  as  will  prevent  the 
Chinese  themselves  from  permeating  the  new 
with  their  own  distinctive  individuality. 
There  is  a  charm  about  old  China  that  only 
those  who  have  lived  there  can  understand, 
and  there  is  a  charm  about  these  dainty 
ladies,  secluded  within  their  walls,  which  the 
modern  woman  may  lose  in  a  too  sudden 
transition  into  the  air  of  the  Western  day. 

Let  Europe,  let  America,  let  the  West  come 
to  China,  but  let  the  day  be  far  distant  when 
we  shall  find  no  longer  in  the  women's  court- 
yards such  mothers  as  Kwei-li. 


102  My    Lady    of    the 


My  Dear  Mother, 

Thy  son  has  received  his  appointment  as 
governor  of  this  province,  and  we  are  at  last 
settled  in  this  new  and  strange  abode.  We  are 
most  proud  of  the  words  pronounced  by  His 
Excellency  Yuan  when  giving  him  his  power 
of  office.  He  said: 

"You,  Liu,  are  an  example  of  that  higher  patriotism 
rarely  met  with  in  .official  life,  which  recognises  its 
duty  to  its  Government,  a  duty  too  often  forgotten 
by  the  members  of  a  great  family  such  as  that  of 
which  you  are  the  honoured  head,  in  the  obligation  to 
the  Clan  and  the  desire  to  use  power  for  personal 
advantage.  Your  official  record  has  been  without 
stain;  and  especially  your  work  among  the  foreigners 
dwelling  in  our  land  has  been  accomplished  with  tact 
and  discretion.  I  am  sending  you  to  Shanghai,  which 
is  the  most  difficult  post  in  the  Republic  because  of 
its  involved  affairs  with  the  foreign  nations,  knowing 
that  the  interests  of  the  Republic  will  be  always  safe 
in  your  hands." 

I  write  thee  this  because  I  know  thy  mother- 
heart  will  rejoice  that  our  President  shows 
such  confidence  in  thy  son,  and  that  his  many 


Chinese     Courtyard  103 

years  of  service  to  his  country  have  been  ap- 
preciated. 

Shanghai  truly  is  a  difficult  place  at  present. 
There  are  fifteen  nationalities  here  represented 
by  their  consuls,  and  they  are  all  watching 
China  and  each  other  with  jealous  eyes,  each 
nation  fearing  that  another  will  obtain  some 
slight  advantage  in  the  present  unsettled  state 
of  our  country.  The  town  is  filled  with 
adventurers,  both  European  and  Chinese, 
who  are  waiting  anxiously  to  see  what  attitude 
the  new  Governor  takes  in  regard  to  the  many 
projects  in  which  they  are  interested.  My 
husband  says  nothing  and  allows  them  to 
wonder.  It  is  better  for  them,  because,  like 
all  schemers,  if  they  had  nothing  to  give  them 
anxious  nights  and  troubled  dreams,  they 
would  not  be  happy. 

We  found  the  Yamen  not  suitable  for  our 
large  household,  as  it  did  not  lend  itself 
readily  to  the  reception  of  foreigners  and  the 
innovations  and  new  customs  that  seem  to  be 
necessary  for  the  fulfillment  of  the  duties  of 
a  Chinese  official  under  this  new  order.  As 
thy  son  was  selected  governor  of  this  province 
because  of  his  knowledge  of  foreign  lands  and 
customs,  it  is  necessary  for  him  to  live,  partly 
at  least,  the  life  of  a  European;  but  let  me 


104  My    Lady    of    the 

assure  thee  that,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned,  and 
so  far  as  I  can  influence  it,  our  life  behind 
the  screens  will  always  be  purely  Chinese,  and 
the  old,  unchanged  customs  that  I  love  will 
rule  my  household.  I  will  surrender  no  more 
than  is  necessary  to  this  new  tide  of  West- 
ernism  that  seems  to  be  sweeping  our  China 
from  its  moorings;  but — I  must  not  dwell 
o'ermuch  upon  that  theme,  though  it  is  a 
subject  on  which  I  can  wax  most  eloquent, 
and  I  know  thou  desirest  to  hear  of  this  house 
which  would  seem  so  ugly  in  thine  eyes. 

There  are  no  quiet  courtyards,  no  curving 
roofs,  no  softly  shaded  windows  of  shell,  no 
rounded  archways;  but  all  is  square  and  glar- 
ing and  imposing,  seeming  to  look  coldly 
from  its  staring  windows  of  glass  at  the 
stranger  within  its  gates.  It  says  loudly, 
"I  am  rich;  it  costs  many  thousands  of  taels 
to  make  my  ugliness."  For  me,  it  is  indeed  a 
"foreign"  house.  Yet  I  will  have  justice 
within  my  heart  and  tell  thee  that  there  is 
much  that  we  might  copy  with  advantage.  In 
place  of  floors  of  wide  plain  boards,  and  walls 
of  wood  with  great  wide  cracks  covered  with 
embroideries  and  rugs,  as  in  the  Chinese 
homes,  the  floors  are  made  of  tiny  boards 
polished  until  they  glisten  like  unto  the  sides 


Chinese     Courtyard  105 

of  the  boats  of  the  tea-house  girls,  and  the 
walls  are  of  plaster  covered,  as  in  our  rooms  of 
reception,  with  silk  and  satin,  and  the  chairs 
and  couches  have  silken  tapestry  to  match 
then*  colour.  This  furniture,  strange  to  me, 
is  a  great  care,  as  I  do  not  understand  its 
usages,  and  it  seems  most  stiff  and  formal.  I 
hope  some  day  to  know  a  foreign  woman  on 
terms  of  friendship,  and  I  will  ask  her  to  touch 
the  room  with  her  hands  of  knowledge,  and 
bring  each  piece  into  more  friendly  compan- 
ionship with  its  neighbour.  Now  chairs  look 
coldly  at  tables,  as  if  to  say,  "You  are  an 
intruder!"  and  it  chills  me. 

This  house  is  much  more  simple  than  our 
homes,  because  of  the  many  modern  instru- 
ments that  make  the  work  less  heavy  and 
allow  it  to  be  done  by  few  instead  of  many, 
as  is  our  way.  It  is  not  necessary  to  have  a 
man  attend  solely  to  the  lighting  of  the  lamps. 
Upon  the  wall  is  placed  a  magic  button  which, 
touched  even  by  the  hand  of  ignorance, 
floods  the  room  with  the  light  of  many  suns. 
We  see  no  more  the  water-carrier  with  his  two 
great  wooden  buckets  swinging  from  the  bam- 
boo as  he  comes  from  river  or  canal  to  pour 
the  water  into  the  great  kangs  standing  by  the 
kitchen  door.  Nor  do  we  need  to  put  the 


106  My    Lady    of    the 

powder  in  it  to  make  it  clear  and  wholesome. 
That  is  all  done  by  men  we  do  not  see,  and 
they  call  it  "sanitation."  The  cook  needs 
only  to  turn  a  small  brass  handle,  and  the 
water  comes  forth  as  from  a  distant  spring. 
It  reminds  me  of  the  man  who  came  to  my 
father,  when  he  was  governor  of  Wuseh,  and 
wished  to  install  a  most  unheard-of  machine 
to  bring  water  to  the  city  from  the  lake  upon 
the  hillside.  My  father  listened  most  respect- 
fully to  the  long  and  stupid  explanation,  and 
looked  at  the  clear  water  which  the  foreign 
man  produced  to  show  what  could  be  done, 
then,  shaking  his  head,  said,  "Perhaps  that 
water  is  more  healthful,  as  you  say,  but  it  is 
to  me  too  clear  and  white.  It  has  no  body, 
and  I  fear  has  not  the  strength  of  the  water 
from  our  canals." 

Another  thing  we  do  not  hear  is  the  rattle 
of  the  watchman  as  he  makes  his  rounds  at 
night,  and  I  miss  it.  In  far  Sezchuan,  on  many 
nights  when  sleep  was  distant,  I  would  lie 
and  listen  as  he  struck  upon  his  piece  of  hollow 
bamboo  telling  me  that  all  was  well  within 
our  compound.  Now  the  city  has  police  that 
stand  outside  the  gateway.  Many  are  men 
from  India — big  black  men,  with  fierce  black 
beards  and  burning  eyes.  Our  people  hate 


Chinese     Courtyard  107 

them,  and  they  have  good  cause.  They  are 
most  cruel,  and  ill-treat  all  who  come  within 
their  power.  But  we  must  tread  with  cat- 
like steps,  as  they  are  employed  by  the 
English,  who  protect  them  at  all  times.  They 
are  the  private  army  of  that  nation  here  within 
our  city,  and  at  every  chance  their  numbers 
are  constantly  increased.  I  do  not  under- 
stand this  question  of  police.  There  are  in 
thousands  of  our  cities  and  villages  no  police, 
no  soldiers,  yet  there  is  less  lawlessness  and 
vice  in  a  dozen  purely  Chinese  cities  than  in 
this  great  mongrel  town  that  spends  many 
tens  of  thousands  of  taels  each  year  upon  these 
guardians  of  the  people's  peace.  It  seems  to 
me  that  this  should  tell  the  world  that  the 
force  of  China  is  not  a  physical  force,  but  the 
force  of  the  law-abiding  instinct  of  a  happy 
common  people,  who,  although  living  on  the 
verge  of  misery  and  great  hunger,  live  upright 
lives  and  do  not  try  to  break  their  country's 
laws. 

There  is  a  garden  within  our  walls,  but  not 
a  garden  of  winding  pathways  and  tiny 
bridges  leading  over  lotus  ponds,  nor  are 
there  hillocks  of  rockery  with  here  and  there 
a  tiny  god  or  temple  peeping  from  some 
hidden  grotto.  All  is  flat,  with  long  bare 


108  My    Lady    of    the 

stretches  of  green  grass  over  which  are  nets, 
by  which  my  children  play  a  game  called 
tennis.  This  game  is  foolish,  in  my  eyes,  and 
consists  of  much  jumping  and  useless  waste 
of  strength,  but  the  English  play  it,  and  of 
course  the  modern  Chinese  boy  must  imitate 
them.  I  have  made  one  rule:  my  daughters 
shall  not  play  the  game.  It  seems  to  me  most 
shameful  to  see  a  woman  run  madly,  with 
great  boorish  strides,  in  front  of  men  and  boys. 
My  daughters  pout  and  say  it  is  played  by  all 
the  girls  in  school,  and  that  it  makes  them 
strong  and  well;  but  I  am  firm.  I  have  con- 
ceded many  things,  but  this  to  me  is  vulgar 
and  unseemly. 

Need  I  tell  thee,  Mother  mine,  that  I  am 
a  stranger  in  this  great  city,  that  my  heart 
calls  for  the  hills  and  the  mountain-side  with 
its  ferns  and  blossoms?  Yesterday  at  the 
hour  of  twilight  I  drove  to  the  country  in  the 
motor  (a  new  form  of  carrying  chair  that 
thou  wouldst  not  understand — or  like)  and  I 
stopped  by  a  field  of  flowering  mustard.  The 
scent  brought  remembrance  to  my  heart,  and 
tears  flowed  from  beneath  my  eyelids.  The 
delicate  yellow  blossoms  seemed  to  speak  to 
me  from  out  their  golden  throats,  and  I 
yearned  to  hold  within  my  arms  all  this 


Chinese     Courtyard  109 

beauty  of  the  earth  flowering  beneath  my  feet. 
We  stayed  until  the  darkness  came,  and  up 
to  the  blue  night  rose  from  all  the  fields  "that 
great  soft,  bubbling  chorus  which  seems  the 
very  voice  of  the  earth  itself — the  chant  of 
the  frogs."  When  we  turned  back  and  saw 
the  vulgar  houses,  with  straight  red  tops  and 
piercing  chimneys,  I  shut  my  eyes  and  in  a 
vision  saw  the  blue-grey  houses  with  their 
curved-up,  tilted  roofs  nestling  among  the 
groves  of  bamboo,  and  I  felt  that  if  it  were 
my  misfortune  to  spend  many  moons  in  this 
great  alien  city,  my  heart  would  break  with 
longing  for  the  beautiful  home  I  love. 

I  felt  sympathy  with  Kang  Tang-li,  of  my 
father's  province,  who  heard  of  a  new  God  in 
Anhui.  He  had  eaten  bitter  sorrow  and  he 
felt  that  the  old  Gods  had  forgotten  him  and 
did  not  hear  his  call,  so  he  walked  two  long 
days'  journey  to  find  this  new  God  who  gave 
joy  and  peace  to  those  who  came  to  him.  He 
arrived  at  eventime,  the  sun  was  setting  in 
a  lake  of  gold,  but  even  with  its  glory  it  could 
not  change  the  ugly  square-built  temple,  with 
no  curves  or  grace  to  mark  it  as  a  dwelling- 
place  of  Gods.  Kang  walked  slowly  around 
this  temple,  looked  long  at  its  staring  windows 
and  its  tall  and  ugly  spire  upon  the  rooftree 


110  My    Lady    of    the 

which  seemed  to  force  its  way  into  the  kindly 
dark  blue  sky;  then,  saddened,  sick  at  heart, 
he  turned  homeward,  saying  deep  within  him 
that  no  God  whom  he  could  reverence  would 
choose  for  a  dwelling-place  a  house  so  lacking 
in  all  beauty. 

Is  this  a  long  and  tiresome  letter,  my 
Honourable  Mother?  But  thou  art  far  away, 
and  in  thy  sheltered  walls  yearn  to  know  what 
has  come  to  us,  thy  children,  in  this  new  and 
foreign  life.  It  is  indeed  a  new  life  for  me, 
and  I  can  hardly  grasp  its  meaning.  They 
are  trying  hard  to  force  us  to  change  our  old 
quietude  and  peace  for  the  rush  and  worry  of 
the  Western  world,  and  I  fear  I  am  too  old 
and  settled  for  such  sudden  changes. 

Tell  Mah-li's  daughter  that  I  will  send  her 
news  of  the  latest  fashions,  and  tell  Li-ti  that 
the  hair  is  dressed  quite  differently  here.  I 
will  write  her  more  about  it  and  send  her  the 
new  ornaments.  They  are  not  so  pretty,  in 
my  eyes,  nor  are  the  gowns  so  graceful,  but  I 
will  send  her  patterns  that  she  may  choose. 

We  all  give  thee  our  greetings  and  touch  thy 
hand  with  love. 

Kwei-li 


Chinese     Courtyard  111 


II 


My  Dear  Mother., 

I  have  not  written  thee  for  long,  as  my 
days  have  been  filled  with  duties  new  and 
strange  to  me.  The  wives  of  the  foreign 
officials  have  called  upon  me,  as  that  ap- 
pears to  be  their  custom.  It  seems  to  [me 
quite  useless  and  a  waste  of  time;  but  they 
come,  and  I  must  return  the  calls.  I  do  not 
understand  why  the  consuls  cannot  transact 
their  business  with  the  Governor  without 
trying  to  peer  into  his  inner  life.  To  us  a 
man's  official  life  and  that  which  lies  within 
his  women's  courtyard  are  as  separate  as  two 
pathways  which  never  meet. 

The  foreign  woman  comes  and  sits  upon  the 
edge  of  her  chair  in  great  discomfort,  vainly 
searching  for  a  subject  upon  which  we  may 
have  a  common  bond.  I  sit  upon  the  edge  of 
the  chair  from  necessity,  as  these  chairs  are 
far  too  high  for  me,  and  my  tiny  feet  hang 
helplessly  in  the  air.  Although  the  chairs  are 
not  so  high  or  so  straight  and  stiff  as  are  our 
seats  of  honour,  they  have  no  footstools,  and 


My    Lady    of    the 


no  small  tables  on  which  to  lean  the  arm.  Thou 
wouldst  laugh  at  our  poor  feeble  efforts  to  be 
agreeable  one  to  the  other.  Our  conversa- 
tion is  as  foolish  and  as  useless  as  would  be  the 
using  of  a  paper  lantern  for  the  rice-mill. 
With  all  desire  to  be  courteous  and  to  put 
her  at  her  ease,  I  ask  about  her  children,  the 
health  of  her  honourable  mother,  and  the 
state  of  her  household.  I  do  not  ask  her  age, 
as  I  have  learned  that,  contrary  to  our  usage, 
it  is  a  question  not  considered  quite  auspi- 
cious, and  often  causes  the  flush  of  great 
embarrassment  to  rise  to  the  cheek  of  a  guest. 
Often  she  answers  me  in  "pidgin"  English,  a 
kind  of  baby-talk  that  is  used  when  address- 
ing servants.  These  foreign  women  have 
rarely  seen  a  Chinese  lady,  and  they  are 
surprised  that  I  speak  English;  often  I  have 
been  obliged  to  explain  that  when  I  found  that 
my  husband's  office  brought  him  close  to 
foreigners,  and  that  my  sons  and  daughters 
were  learning  the  new  education  in  which  it 
is  necessary  to  know  other  than  their  mother 
tongue,  I  would  not  be  left  behind  within 
closed  doors,  so  I  too  learned  of  English  and 
of  French  enough  to  read  and  speak.  I  am 
to  them  a  curiosity.  It  has  not  been  cor- 
rect in  former  times  to  know  a  Chinese  lady 


Chinese     Courtyard  113 

socially;  and  to  these  ladies,  with  their  society, 
their  calls,  their  dinners,  and  their  games  of 
cards,  we  within  the  courtyards  are  people 
from  another  world.  They  think  that  Chinese 
women  are  and  always  have  been  the  closely 
prisoned  slaves  of  their  husbands,  idle  and 
ignorant  and  soulless,  with  no  thoughts  above 
their  petty  household  cares  and  the  strange 
heathen  gods  they  worship. 

Of  course,  these  foreign  women  do  not  say 
these  things  in  words,  but  their  looks  are 
most  expressive,  and  I  understand.  I  serve 
them  tea  and  cake,  of  which  they  take  most 
sparingly,  and  when  the  proper  time  has  come 
they  rise,  trying  not  to  look  relief  that  their 
martyrdom  is  over.  I  conduct  them  to  the 
doorway,  or,  if  the  woman  is  the  wife  of  a 
great  official,  to  the  outer  entrance.  Then  I 
return  to  my  own  rooms  midst  the  things  I 
understand ;  and  I  fear,  I  fear,  Mother  mine, 
that  I  gossip  with  my  household  upon  the 
ways  and  dress  and  manners  of  these  queer 
people  from  distant  lands. 

I  have  been  asked  to  join  a  society  of 
European  and  Chinese  ladies  for  the  purpose 
of  becoming  acquainted  one  with  the  other, 
but  I  do  not  think  that  I  will  do  so.  I  believe 
it  impossible  for  the  woman  of  the  West  to 


114  My    Lady    of    the 

form  an  alliance  with  the  woman  of  the  East 
that  will  be  deep-rooted.  The  thoughts 
within  our  hearts  are  different,  as  are  our 
points  of  view.  We  do  not  see  the  world 
through  the  same  eyes.  The  foreign  woman 
has  children  like  myself,  but  her  ambitions 
and  her  ideals  for  them  are  different.  She  has 
a  home  and  a  husband,  but  my  training  and 
my  instincts  give  my  home  and  my  husband  a 
different  place  in  life  than  that  which  she  gives 
to  those  of  her  household.  To  me  the  words 
marriage,  friendship,  home,  have  a  deeper 
meaning  than  is  attached  to  them  by  a  people 
who  live  in  hotels  and  public  eating-places, 
and  who  are  continually  in  the  homes  of 
others.  They  have  no  sanctity  of  the  life 
within;  there  are  no  shrines  set  apart  for  the 
family  union,  and  the  worship  of  the  spirits  of 
their  ancestors.  I  cannot  well  explain  to  thee, 
the  something  intangible,  the  thick  grey  mist 
that  is  always  there  to  put  its  bar  across  the 
open  door  of  friendship  between  the  woman  of 
the  Occident  and  those  of  Oriental  blood. 

I  would  ask  of  thee  a  favour.  I  wish  that 
thou  wouldst  search  my  rooms  and  find  the 
clothing  that  is  not  needed  by  thy  women. 
My  house  is  full  to  overflowing.  I  had  no 
idea  we  had  so  many  poor  relations.  The  poor 


Chinese     Courtyard  115 

relation  of  our  poor  relation  and  the  cousin 
of  our  cousin's  cousin  have  come  to  claim 
their  kinship.  Thy  son  will  give  no  one 
official  position  nor  allow  them  money  from 
the  public  funds;  but  they  must  have  clothing 
and  rice,  and  I  provide  it.  I  sometimes  feel, 
when  looking  into  the  empty  rice-bin,  that  I 
sympathize  with  His  Excellency  Li  Hung- 
chang  who  built  a  great  house  here,  far  from 
his  home  province.  When  asked  why,  unlike 
the  Chinese  custom,  he  builded  so  far  from 
kith  and  kin,  he  answered,  "You  have  placed 
the  finger  upon  the  pulse-beat  the  first  in- 
stant. I  built  it  far  away,  hoping  that  all  the 
relatives  of  my  relatives  who  find  themselves 
in  need,  might  not  find  the  money  where- 
with to  buy  a  ticket  in  order  to  come  and  live 
beneath  my  rooftree."  (With  us,  they  do 
not  wait  for  tickets;  they  have  strong  and  will- 
ing feet.)  I  am  afraid  that  His  Excellency, 
although  of  the  old  China  that  I  love,  was 
touched  with  this  new  spirit  of  each  member 
for  himself  that  has  come  upon  this  country. 

It  is  the  good  of  the  one  instead  of  the  whole, 
as  in  the  former  times,  and  there  is  much  that 
can  be  said  upon  both  sides.  The  family 
should  always  stand  for  the  members  of  the 
clan  in  the  great  crises  of  their  lives,  and  help 


116  My    Lady    of    the 

to  care  for  them  in  days  of  poverty  and  old  age. 
It  is  not  just  that  one  should  prosper  while 
others  of  the  same  blood  starve;  yet  it  is  not 
just  that  one  should  provide  for  those  unwill- 
ing to  help  themselves.  I  can  look  back  with 
eyes  of  greater  knowledge  to  our  home,  and 
I  fear  that  there  are  many  eating  from  the 
bowl  of  charity  who  might  be  working  and 
self-respecting  if  they  wrere  not  members  of 
the  great  family  Liu,  and  so  entitled  to  thy 
help. 

It  is  the  hour  for  driving  with  the  children. 
We  all  are  thine  and  think  of  thee  each  day. 

Kwei-li 


Chinese     Courtyard  117 


III 

My  Mother, 

I  have  such  great  news  to  tell  thee  that 
I  hardly  know  where  to  begin.  But,  first, 
I  will  astonish  thee — Ting-fang  is  home! 
Yes,  I  can  hear  thee  say,  "Hi  yah!"  and  I 
said  it  many  times  when,  the  evening  before 
last,  after  thy  son  and  the  men  of  the  house- 
hold had  finished  the  evening  meal,  and  I 
and  the  women  were  preparing  to  eat  our 
rice,  we  saw  a  darkness  in  the  archway,  and 
standing  there  was  my  son.  Not  one  of  us 
spoke  a  word;  we  were  as  if  turned  to  stone; 
as  we  thought  of  him  as  in  far-off  America, 
studying  at  the  college  of  Yale.  But  here  he 
stood  in  real  life,  smiling  at  our  astonishment. 
He  slowly  looked  at  us  all,  then  went  to  his 
father  and  saluted  him  respectfully,  came  and 
bowed  before  me,  then  took  me  in  his  arms  in 
a  most  disrespectful  manner  and  squeezed 
me  together  so  hard  he  nearly  broke  my  bones. 
I  was  so  frightened  and  so  pleased  that  of 
course  I  could  only  cry  and  cling  to  this  great 
boy  of  mine  whom  I  had  not  seen  for  six  long 


118  My    Lady    of    the 

years.  I  held  him  away  from  me  and  looked 
long  into  his  face.  He  is  a  man  now,  twenty- 
one  years  old,  a  big,  strong  man,  taller  than 
his  father.  I  can  hardly  reach  his  shoulder. 
He  is  straight  and  slender,  and  looks  an  alien 
in  his  foreign  dress,  yet  when  I  looked  into 
his  eyes  I  knew  it  was  mine  own  come  to  me 
again. 

No  one  knows  how  all  my  dreams  followed 
this  bird  that  left  the  nest.  No  one  knows 
how  long  seemed  the  nights  when  sleep  would 
not  come  to  my  eyes  and  I  wondered  what 
would  come  to  my  boy  in  that  far-off  land,  a 
strange  land  with  strange,  unloving  people, 
who  would  not  care  to  put  him  on  the  pathway 
when  he  strayed.  Thou  rememberest  how  I 
battled  with  his  father  in  regard  to  sending 
him  to  England  to  commence  his  foreign 
education.  I  said,  "Is  not  four  years  of 
college  in  America  enough?  Why  four  years' 
separation  to  prepare  to  go  to  that  college? 
He  will  go  from  me  a  boy  and  return  a  man. 
I  will  lose  my  son."  But  his  father  firmly 
said  that  the  English  public  schools  gave  the 
ground-work  for  a  useful  life.  He  must  form 
his  code  of  honour  and  his  character  upon  the 
rules  laid  down  for  centuries  by  the  English, 
and  then  go  to  America  for  the  education  of 


Chinese     Courtyard  119 

the  intellect,  to  learn  to  apply  the  lessons 
learned  in  England.  He  did  not  want  his 
son  to  be  all  for  present  success,  as  is  the 
American,  or  to  be  all  for  tradition,  as  is  the 
Englishman,  but  he  thought  the  two  might 
find  a  happy  meeting-place  in  a  mind  not  yet 
well  formed. 

But  thoughts  of  learning  did  not  assuage 
the  pain  in  my  mother-heart.  I  had  heard 
of  dreadful  things  happening  to  our  Chinese 
boys  who  are  sent  abroad  to  get  the  Western 
knowledge.  Often  they  marry  strange  women 
who  have  no  place  in  our  life  if  they  return 
to  China,  and  who  lose  their  birthright  with 
the  women  of  their  race  by  marrying  a 
Chinese.  Neither  side  can  be  blamed,  cer- 
tainly not  our  boys.  They  go  there  alone, 
often  with  little  money.  They  live  in  houses 
where  they  are  offered  food  and  lodging  at 
the  cheapest  price.  They  are  not  in  a  posi- 
tion to  meet  women  of  their  own  class,  and 
being  boys  they  crave  the  society  of  girls. 
Perhaps  the  daughter  of  the  woman  who  keeps 
the  lodging-house  speaks  to  them  kindly, 
talks  to  them  in  the  evening  when  they  have 
no  place  to  go  except  to  a  lonely,  ugly  room; 
or  the  girl  in  the  shop  where  they  buy  their 
clothing  smiles  as  she  wraps  for  them  their 


120 


packages.  Such  attentions  would  be  passed 
by  without  a  thought  at  ordinary  times,  but 
now  notice  means  much  to  a  heart  that  is 
trying  hard  to  stifle  its  loneliness  and  sorrow, 
struggling  to  learn  in  an  unknown  tongue  the 
knowledge  of  the  West;  in  lieu  of  mother, 
sister,  or  sweetheart  of  his  own  land,  the  boy 
is  insensibly  drawn  into  a  net  that  tightens 
about  him,  until  he  takes  the  fatal  step  and 
brings  back  to  his  mother  a  woman  of  an 
alien  race. 

One  sorrows  for  the  girl,  whatever  may  be 
her  station,  as  she  does  not  realize  that  there 
is  no  place  for  her  in  all  the  old  land  of  China. 
She  will  be  scorned  by  those  of  foreign  birth, 
and  she  can  never  become  one  of  us.  Dost 
thou  remember  the  wife  of  Wang,  the  secre- 
tary of  the  embassy  at  London?  He  was 
most  successful  and  was  given  swift  promo- 
tion until  he  married  the  English  lady,  whose 
father  was  a  tutor  at  one  of  the  great  colleges. 
It  angered  Her  Majesty  and  he  was  recalled 
and  given  the  small  post  of  secretary  to  the 
Taotai  of  our  city.  The  poor  foreign  wife 
died  alone  within  her  Chinese  home,  into 
which  no  friend  had  entered  to  bid  her  wel- 
come. Some  say  that  after  many  moons  of 
solitude  and  loneliness  she  drank  the  strong 


Chinese     Courtyard 


drink  of  her  country  to  drown  her  sorrow. 
Perhaps  it  was  a  bridge  on  which  she  crossed 
to  a  land  filled  with  the  memories  of  the  past 
which  brought  her  solace  in  her  time  of 
desolation. 

But  I  have  wandered,  Mother  mine;  my 
mind  has  taken  me  to  England,  America,  to 
Chinese  men  with  foreign  wives,  and  now  I 
will  return  and  tell  thee  of  thine  own  again, 
and  of  my  son  who  has  returned  to  me.  When 
at  last  the  Gods  gave  us  our  breath,  we 
asked  the  many  questions  which  came  to  us 
like  a  river  that  has  broken  all  its  bounds. 
Thy  son,  the  father  of  Ting-fang,  was  more 
than  angry  —  he  was  white  with  wrath,  and 
demanded  what  Ting-fang  did  here  when  he 
should  have  been  at  school.  My  son  said, 
and  I  admired  the  way  he  spoke  up  boldly 
to  his  father,  "Father,  I  read  each  day  of  the 
progress  of  the  Revolution,  of  the  new  China 
that  was  being  formed,  and  I  could  not  stay 
on  and  study  books  while  I  might  be  helping 
here."  His  father  said,  "Thy  duty  was  to 
stay  where  I,  thy  father,  put  thee!"  Ting- 
fang  answered,  "Thou  couldst  not  have  sat  still 
and  studied  of  ancient  Greece  and  Rome  while 
thy  country  was  fighting  for  its  life;"  and 
then  he  added,  most  unfilially,  "I  notice  thou 


My    Lady    of    the 


art  not  staying  in  Sezchuan,  but  art  here  in 
Shanghai,  in  the  centre  of  things.  I  am  thy 
son;  I  do  not  like  to  sit  quietly  by  the  road 
and  watch  the  world  pass  by;  I  want  to  help 
make  that  world,  the  same  as  thou." 

His  father  talked  long  and  bitterly,  and  the 
boy  was  saddened,  and  I  crept  silently  to 
him  and  placed  my  hand  in  his.  It  was  all 
I  could  do,  for  the  moment,  as  it  would  not 
be  seemly  for  me  to  take  his  part  against  his 
father,  but  —  I  talked  to  thy  son,  my  husband, 
when  we  were  alone  within  our  chamber. 

The  storm  has  passed.  His  father  refused 
to  make  Ting-fang  a  secretary,  as  he  says  the 
time  is  past  when  officials  fill  their  Yamens 
with  their  relatives  and  friends.  I  think  that 
as  the  days  go  on,  he  will  relent,  as  in  these 
troublous  times  a  high  official  cannot  be  sure 
of  the  loyalty  of  the  men  who  eat  his  rice,  and 
he  can  rely  upon  his  son.  A  Liu  was  never 
known  to  be  disloyal. 

There  is  too  much  agitation  here.  The 
officials  try  to  ignore  it  as  much  as  possible, 
believing  that  muddy  water  is  often  made 
clear  if  allowed  to  stand  still.  Yet  they  must 
be  ready  to  act  quickly,  as  speedily  as  one 
springs  up  when  a  serpent  is  creeping  into  the 
lap,  because  now  the  serpent  of  treachery  and 


Chinese     Courtyard  123 

ingratitude  is  in  every  household.  These 
secret  plottings,  like  the  weeds  that  thrust 
their  roots  deep  into  the  rice-fields,  cannot 
be  taken  out  without  bringing  with  them 
some  grain,  and  many  an  innocent  family  is 
now  suffering  for  the  hot-headedness  of  its 
youth. 

I  sometimes  think  that  I  agree  with  the 
wise  governor  of  the  olden  time  whose  motto 
was  to  empty  the  minds  of  the  people  and  fill 
their  stomachs,  weaken  their  wills  and 
strengthen  their  bones.  When  times  were 
troublous  he  opened  the  government  granaries 
and  the  crowds  were  satisfied. 

But  the  people  are  different  now;  they  have 
too  much  knowledge.  New  ambitions  have 
been  stirred;  new  wants  created;  a  new  spirit 
is  abroad  and,  with  mighty  power,  is  over- 
turning and  recasting  the  old  forms  and 
deeply  rooted  customs.  China  is  moving, 
and,  we  of  the  old  school  think,  too  quickly. 
She  is  going  at  a  bound  from  the  dim  light  of 
the  bean-oil  brazier  to  the  dazzling  brilliance 
of  the  electric  light;  from  the  leisured  slow- 
ness of  the  wheelbarrow  pushed  by  the  patient 
coolie  to  the  speed  of  the  modern  motor-car; 
from  the  practice  of  the  seller  of  herbs  to  the 
science  of  the  modern  doctor.  We  all  feel 


124  My    Lady    of    the 

that  new  China  is  at  a  great  turning-point 
because  she  is  just  starting  out  on  her  journey 
that  may  last  many  centuries,  and  may  see 
its  final  struggle  to-morrow.  It  is  of  great 
importance  that  the  right  direction  shall  be 
taken  at  first.  A  wrong  turn  at  the  begin- 
ning, and  the  true  pathway  may  never  be 
found.  So  much  depends  upon  her  leaders, 
on  men  like  Yuan,  Wu,  and  thy  son,  my 
husband;  the  men  who  point  out  the  road  to 
those  who  will  follow  as  wild  fowl  follow 
their  leader.  The  Chinese  people  are  keen  to 
note  disinterestedness,  and  if  these  men  who 
have  risen  up  show  that  they  have  the  good  of 
the  people  at  heart  much  may  be  done.  If 
they  have  the  corrupt  heart  of  many  of  the 
old-time  officials,  China  will  remain  as  before, 
so  far  as  the  great  mass  of  her  men  are 
concerned. 

I  hear  the  children  coming  from  their  school, 
so  I  will  say  good-by  for  a  time.  Ting-fang 
sends  his  most  respectful  love,  and  all  my 
household  join  in  sending  thee  good  wishes. 

Kwei-li 


[Page  HI] 


~DERHAPS  it  was  a  bridge  on  which  she 
crossed  to  a  land  filled  with  the  memories 
of  the  past. 


fJlHE  garden  of  my  friend  was  most  beautiful. 


(Page  129] 


Chinese     Courtyard  125 


IV 


My  Dear  Mother, 

Dost  thou  remember  Liang  Tai-tai,  the 
daughter  of  the  Princess  Tseng,  thine  old 
friend  of  Pau-chau?  Thou  rememberest  we 
used  to  laugh  at  the  pride  of  Liang  in  regard 
to  her  mother's  clan,  and  her  care  in  speaking 
of  her  father  who  was  only  a  small  official  in 
the  governor's  Yamen.  Thou  wert  wont  to 
say  that  she  reminded  thee  of  the  mule  that, 
when  asked  who  was  his  father,  answered,  "The 
horse  is  my  maternal  uncle."  She  comes  to 
see  me  often,  and  she  worries  me  with  her  piety; 
she  is  quite  mad  upon  the  subject  of  the  Gods. 
I  often  feel  that  I  am  wrong  to  be  so  lacking 
in  sympathy  with  her  religious  longings;  but  I 
hate  extremes.  "Extreme  straightness  is  as 
bad  as  crookedness,  and  extreme  cleverness 
as  bad  as  folly."  She  is  ever  asking  me  if  I 
do  not  desire,  above  all  things,  the  life  of  the 
higher  road — whatever  that  may  mean.  I 
tell  her  that  I  do  not  know.  I  would  not  be 
rare,  like  jade,  or  common,  like  stone;  just 
medium.  Anyway,  my  days  are  far  too  full 


126  My    Lady    of    the 

to  think  about  any  other  road  than  the  one  I 
must  tread  each  day  in  the  fulfillment  of  the 
duties  the  Gods  have  given  me. 

Some  people  seem  to  be  irreverently  familiar 
with  the  Gods,  and  to  be  forever  praying.  If 
they  would  only  be  a  little  more  human  and 
perform  the  daily  work  that  lies  before  them 
(Liang's  son  is  the  main  support  of  the  Golden 
Lotus  Tea-house)  they  might  let  prayer  alone 
a  while  without  ceasing  to  enjoy  the  protec- 
tion of  the  Gods.  It  is  dangerous  to  over- 
load oneself  with  piety,  as  the  sword  that  is 
polished  to  excess  is  sometimes  polished  away. 
And  there  is  another  side  that  Liang  should 
remember,  her  husband  not  having  riches  in 
abundance:  that  the  rays  of  the  Gods  love 
well  the  rays  of  Gold. 

But  to-day  she  came  to  me  with  her  rice- 
bowl  overflowing  with  her  sorrows.  Her  son 
has  returned  from  the  foreign  lands  with  the 
new  education  from  which  she  hoped  so  much, 
but  it  seems  he  has  acquired  knowledge  of 
the  vices  of  the  foreigner  to  add  to  those  of  the 
Chinese.  He  did  not  stay  long  enough  to 
become  Westernised,  but  he  stayed  long 
enough  to  lose  touch  with  the  people  and  the 
customs  of  his  country.  He  forgets  that  he  is 
not  an  American  even  with  his  foreign  educa- 


Chinese     Courtyard  127 

tion;  lie  is  still  an  Oriental  and  he  comes  back 
to  an  Oriental  land,  a  land  tied  down  by 
tradition  and  custom,  and  he  can  not  adapt 
himself.  He  tries  instead,  to  adapt  China 
to  his  half -European  ised  way  of  thought,  and 
he  has  failed.  He  has  become  what  my 
husband  calls  an  agitator,  a  tea-house  orator, 
and  he  sees  nothing  but  wrong  in  his  people. 
There  is  no  place  in  life  for  him,  and  he  sits 
at  night  in  public  places,  stirring  foolish  boys 
to  deeds  of  treason  and  violence.  Another 
thing,  he  has  learned  to  drink  the  foreign 
wines,  and  the  mixture  is  not  good.  They 
will  not  blend  with  Chinese  wine,  any  more 
than  the  two  civilisations  will  come  together 
as  one. 

Why  did  the  Gods  make  the  first  draught 
of  wine  to  curse  the  race  of  men,  to  make 
blind  the  reason,  to  make  angels  into  devils 
and  to  leave  a  lasting  curse  on  all  who  touch 
it  ?  "It  is  a  cataract  that  carries  havoc  with 
it  in  a  road  of  mire  where  he  who  falls  may 
never  rise  again."  It  seems  to  me  that  he 
who  drinks  the  wine  of  both  lands  allows  it  to 
become  a  ring  that  leads  him  to  the  Land  of 
Nothing,  and  ends  as  did  my  friend's  son,  with 
the  small  round  ball  of  sleep  that  grows  within 
the  poppy.  One  morning's  light,  when  he 


128  My    Lady     of    the 

looked  long  into  his  own  face  and  saw  the 
marks  that  life  was  leaving,  he  saw  no  way 
except  the  Bridge  of  Death;  but  he  was  not 
successful. 

His  mother  brought  him  to  me,  sus  he  has 
always  liked  me,  and  is  a  friend  (for  which  I 
sorrow)  of  my  son.  I  talked  to  him  alone 
within  an  inner  chamber,  and  tried  to  show  to 
him  the  error  of  his  way.  I  quoted  to  him 
the  words  spoken  to  another  foolish  youth 
who  tried  to  force  the  gates  of  Heaven:  "My 
son,  thou  art  enmeshed  within  these  world's 
ways,  and  have  not  cared  to  wonder  where 
the  stream  would  carry  thee  in  coming  days. 
If  thou  mere  human  duties  scorn,  as  a  worn 
sandal  cast  aside,  thou  art  no  man  but 
stock-stone  born,  lost  in  a  selfish  senseless 
pride.  If  thou  couldst  mount  to  Heaven's 
high  plain,  then  thine  own  will  might  be  thy 
guide,  but  here  on  earth  thou  needs  must 
dwell.  Thou  canst  well  see  that  thou  art  not 
wanted  in  the  Halls  of  Heaven;  so  turn  to 
things  yet  near;  turn  to  thy  earthly  home  and 
try  to  do  thy  duty  here.  Thou  must  control 
thyself,  there  is  no  escape  through  the  Eastern 
Gateway  for  the  necessity  of  self -conquest." 

He  wept  and  gave  me  many  promises;  and 
I  showed  him  that  I  believed  in  him,  and  saw 


Chinese     Courtyard  129 

his  worth.  But — we  think  it  wiser  to  send 
him  far  away  from  his  companions,  who  only 
seek  to  drag  him  down.  Thy  son  will  give  to 
him  a  letter  and  ask  the  Prefect  of  Canton  to 
give  him*work  at  our  expense. 

I  felt  it  better  that  Liang  Tai-tai  should  not 
be  alone  with  her  son  for  several  hours,  as  her 
tongue  is  bitter  and  reproaches  come  easily 
to  angry  lips,  so  I  took  her  with  me  to  the 
garden  of  a  friend  outside  the  city.  It  was 
the  Dragon  Boat  Festival,  when  all  the  world 
goes  riverward  to  send  their  lighted  boats 
upon  the  waters  searching  for  the  soul  of  the 
great  poet  who  drowned  himself  in  the  olden 
time,  and  whose  body  the  jealous  Water 
God  took  to  himself  and  it  nevermore  was 
found.  Dost  thou  remember  how  we  told  the 
story  to  the  children  when  the  family  all  were 
with  thee — oh,  it  seems  many  moons  ago. 

The  garden  of  my  friend  was  most  beauti- 
ful, and  we  seemed  within  a  world  apart.  The 
way  was  through  high  woods  and  over  long 
green  plots  of  grass  and  around  queer  rocks; 
there  were  flowers  with  stories  in  their  hearts, 
and  trees  who  held  the  spirits  of  the  air  close 
'neath  their  ragged  covering.  Pigeons  called 
softly  to  their  mates,  and  doves  cooed  and 
sobbed  as  they  nestled  one  to  the  other.  We 


130  My    Lady    of    the 

showed  the  children  the  filial  young  crow  who, 
when  his  parents  are  old  and  helpless,  feeds 
them  in  return  for  their  care  when  he  was 
young;  and  we  pointed  out  the  young  dove 
sitting  three  branches  lower  on  the^ree  than 
do  his  parents,  so  deep  is  his  respect. 

When  the  western  sky  was  like  a  golden 
curtain,  we  went  to  the  canal,  where  the 
children  set  their  tiny  boats  afloat,  each  with 
its  lighted  lantern.  The  wind  cried  softly 
through  the  bamboo-trees  and  filled  the  sails 
of  these  small  barks,  whose  lights  flashed 
brightly  from  the  waters  as  if  the  Spirits  of 
the  River  laughed  with  joy. 

We  returned  home,  happy,  tired,  but  with 
new  heart  to  start  the  morrow's  work. 

Thy  daughter, 

Kwei-li 


Chinese     Courtyard  131 


My  Dear  Mother, 

We  are  in  the  midst  of  a  most  perplexing 
problem,  and  one  that  is  hard  for  us  to  cope 
with,  as  it  is  so  utterly  new.  My  children 
seem  to  have  formed  an  alliance  amongst 
themselves  in  opposition  to  the  wishes  of 
their  parents  on  all  subjects  touching  the 
customs  and  traditions  of  the  family.  My 
son,  as  thou  rememberest,  was  betrothed  in 
childhood  to  the  daughter  of  his  father's 
friend,  the  Governor  of  Chih-li.  He  is  a 
man  now,  and  should  fulfill  that  most  solemn 
obligation  that  we,  his  parents,  laid  upon 
him — and  he  refuses.  I  can  see  thee  sit  back 
aghast  at  this  lack  of  filial  spirit;  and  I,  too, 
am  aghast.  I  cannot  understand  this  genera- 
tion; I'm  afraid  that  I  cannot  understand 
these,  my  children.  My  boy  insists  that  he 
will  marry  a  girl  of  his  own  choice,  a  girl  with 
a  foreign  education  like  unto  his  own.  We 
have  remonstrated,  we  have  urged,  we  have 
commanded,  and  now  at  last  a  compromise 
has  been  effected.  We  have  agreed  that 


132  My    Lady    of    the 

when  she  comes  to  us,  teachers  shall  be  brought 
to  the  house  and  she  shall  be  taught  the  new 
learning.  Along  with  the  duties  of  wife  she 
shall  see  the  new  life  around  her  and  from  it 
take  what  is  best  for  her  to  know. 

I  can  understand  his  desire  to  have  a  wife 
with  whom  he  may  talk  of  the  things  of 
common  interest  to  them  both,  a  wife  who 
can  share  with  him,  at  least  in  part,  the  life 
beyond  the  woman's  courtyard.  I  remember 
how  I  felt  when  thy  son  returned  from  foreign 
lands,  filled  with  new  sights,  new  thoughts  in 
which  I  could  not  share.  I  had  been  sitting 
quietly  behind  closed  doors,  and  I  felt  that  I 
could  not  help  in  this  new  vision  that  had 
come  to  him.  I  could  speak  to  only  one  side 
of  his  life,  when  I  wished  to  speak  to  all;  but 
I  studied,  I  learned,  and,  as  far  as  it  is  possible 
for  a  Chinese  woman,  I  have  made  my  steps 
agree  with  those  of  my  husband,  and  we 
march  close,  side  by  side. 

My  son  would  like  his  wife  to  be  placed  in  a 
school,  the  school  from  which  my  daughter 
has  just  now  graduated;  but  I  will  not  allow  it. 
I  am  not  in  favour  of  such  schools  for  our 
girls.  It  has  made  of  Wan-li  a  half-trained 
Western  woman,  a  woman  who  finds  music 
in  the  piano  instead  of  the  lute,  who  quotes 


Chinese     Courtyard  133 

from  Shelley,  and  Wordsworth,  instead  of 
from  the  Chinese  classics,  who  thinks  em- 
broidery work  for  servants,  and  the  order- 
ing of  her  household  a  thing  beneath  her 
great  mental  status. 

I,  of  course,  wish  ner  to  marry  at  once;  as 
to  me  that  is  the  holiest  desire  of  woman — to 
marry  and  give  men-children  to  the  world; 
but  it  seems  that  the  word  "marry"  has 
opened  the  door  to  floods  of  talk  to  which  I 
can  only  listen  in  silent  amazement.  I  never 
before  had  realised  that  I  have  had  the  honour 
of  bearing  children  with  such  tongues  of 
eloquence;  and  I  fully  understand  that  I 
belong  to  a  past,  a  very  ancient  past — the 
Mings,  from  what  I  hear,  are  my  contempo- 
raries. And  all  these  words  are  poured  upon 
me  to  try  to  persuade  me  to  allow  Wan-li  to 
become  a  doctor.  Canst  thou  imagine  it? 
A  daughter  of  the  house  of  Liu  a  doctor!  From 
whence  has  she  received  these  unseemly  ideas 
except  in  this  foreign  school  that  teaches  the 
equality  of  the  sexes  to  such  an  extent  that 
our  daughters  want  to  compete  with  men  in 
their  professions!  I  am  not  so  much  of  the 
past  as  my  daughter  seems  to  think;  for  I 
believe,  within  certain  bounds,  in  the  social 
freedom  of  our  women;  but  why  commercial 


134 


freedom?  For  centuries  untold,  men  have 
been  able  to  support  their  wives;  why  enter 
the  market-places?  Is  it  not  enough  that 
they  take  care  of  the  home,  that  they  train 
the  children  and  fulfill  the  duties  of  the  life 
in  which  the  Gods  place  women?  My 
daughter  is  not  ugly,  she  is  most  beautiful; 
yet  she  says  she  will  not  marry.  I  tell  her 
that  when  once  her  eyes  are  opened  to  the 
loved  one,  they  will  be  closed  to  all  the  world 
beside,  and  this  desire  to  enter  the  great 
world  of  turmoil  and  strife  will  flee  like  dew- 
drops  before  the  summer's  dawn.  I  also 
quoted  her  what  I  told  Chih-peh  many  moons 
ago,  when  he  refused  to  marry  the  wife  thou 
hadst  chosen  for  him:  "Man  attains  not  by 
himself,  nor  woman  by  herself,  but  like  the 
one-winged  birds  of  the  ancient  legend,  they 
must  rise  together." 

My  daughter  tossed  her  head  and  answered 
me  that  those  were  doubtless  words  of  great 
wisdom,  but  they  were  written  by  a  man  long 
dead,  and  it  did  not  affect  her  ideas  upon  the 
subject  of  her  marriage. 

We  dare  not  insist,  for  we  find,  to  our 
horror,  that  she  has  joined  a  band  of  girls  who 
have  made  a  vow,  writing  it  with  their  blood, 
that,  rather  than  become  wives  to  husbands 


Chinese    Courtyard  135 

not  of  their  own  choice,  they  will  cross  the 
River  of  Death.  Fifteen  girls,  all  friends  of  my 
daughter,  and  all  of  whom  have  been  study- 
ing the  new  education  for  women,  have  joined 
this  sisterhood;  and  we,  their  mothers,  are  in 
despair.  What  can  we  do?  Shall  we  insist 
that  they  return  to  the  old  regime  and  learn 
nothing  but  embroidery?  Why  can  they  not 
take  what  is  best  for  an  Eastern  woman  from 
the  learning  of  the  West,  as  the  bee  selects 
honey  from  each  flower,  and  leave  the  rest? 
It  takes  centuries  of  training  to  change  the 
habits  and  thoughts  of  a  nation.  It  cannot 
be  done  at  once;  our  girls  have  not  the  foun- 
dation on  which  to  build.  Our  womanhood 
has  been  trained  by  centuries  of  caressing  care 
to  look  as  lovely  as  nature  allows,  to  learn 
obedience  to  father  as  a  child,  to  husband  as 
a  wife,  and  to  children  when  age  comes  with 
his  frosty  fingers. 

Yet  we  all  know  that  the  last  is  a  theory 
only  to  be  read  in  books.  WThere  is  there  one 
so  autocratic  in  her  own  home  as  a  Chinese 
mother?  She  lives  within  its  four  walls,  but 
there  she  is  supreme.  Her  sons  obey  her  even 
when  their  hair  is  touched  with  silver.  Did 
not  thy  son  have  to  ask  thy  leave  before  he 
would  decide  that  he  could  go  with  His  High- 

41 


136  My    Lady     of    the 

ness  to  the  foreign  lands?  Did  he  not  say 
frankly  that  he  must  consult  his  mother,  and 
was  he  not  honoured  and  given  permission 
to  come  to  his  home  to  have  thy  blessing? 
Dost  thou  remember  when  Yuan  was  ap- 
pointed secretary  to  the  embassy  in  London, 
and  declined  the  honour  because  his  mother 
was  old  and  did  not  wish  her  only  son  to 
journey  o'er  the  seas;  he  gave  up  willingly 
and  cheerfully  the  one  great  opportunity  of 
his  life  rather  than  bring  sorrow  to  the  one 
who  bore  him. 

A  similar  case  came  to  our  ears  but  a  few 
days  since.  Some  priests  of  a  foreign  mission 
came  to  my  husband  and  wished  him  to 
intercede,  as  Governor,  and  command  the 
Taotai  of  Soochow  to  sell  to  them  a  piece  of 
land  on  which  to  erect  a  temple  of  their  faith. 
When  the  Taotai  was  asked  why  he  was  so 
persistent  in  his  refusal  to  carry  out  the  prom- 
ise of  the  man  before  him  in  the  office,  he  told 
the  Governor  that  the  temple  where  his 
mother  worshipped  was  in  a  direct  line  with 
the  proposed  new  foreign  house  of  worship. 
His  mother  feared  that  a  spire  would  be  placed 
upon  its  rooftree  that  would  intercept  the 
good  spirits  of  the  air  from  bringing  directly 
to  her  family  rooftree  the  blessings  from  the 


Chinese     Courtyard  137 

temple.  My  husband  tried  to  persuade  him 
that  the  superstitions  of  a  woman  long  in 
years  should  not  stand  in  the  way  of  a  pos- 
sible quarrel  with  men  of  a  foreign  power,  but 
the  Taotai  only  shrugged  his  shoulders  and 
said,  "What  can  I  do?  She  is  my  mother.  I 
cannot  go  against  her  expressed  commands;" 
and — the  temple  to  the  foreign  God  will  not 
be  built. 

But  it  is  as  foolish  to  talk  to  Wan-Ii  as  "to 
ask  the  loan  of  a  comb  from  a  Buddhist  nun." 
She  will  not  listen;  or,  if  she  does,  a  smile 
lies  in  the  open  lily  of  her  face,  and  she  bows 
her  head  in  mock  submission;  then  instantly 
lifts  it  again  with  new  arguments  learned 
from  foreign  books,  and  arguments  that  I 
in  my  ignorance  cannot  refute. 

I  feel  that  I  am  alone  on  a  strange  sea  with 
this,  my  household;  and  I  am  in  deadly  fear 
that  she  will  do  some  shocking  thing,  like  those 
girls  from  the  school  in  Foochow  who,  dressed 
in  their  brothers'  clothing,  came  to  Nanking 
and  asked  to  be  allowed  to  fight  on  the  side  of 
the  Republic.  Patriotism  is  a  virtue,  but  the 
battle-field  is  man's  place.  Let  the  women 
stay  at  home  and  make  the  bandages  to  bind 
the  wounded,  and  keep  the  braziers  lighted 
to  warm  returning  men. 


138  My    Lady    of    the 

I  will  not  write  thee  more  of  troubles,  but 
I  will  tell  thee  that  thy  box  of  clothing  came 
and  is  most  welcome;  also  the  cooking  oil, 
which  gave  our  food  the  taste  of  former  days. 
The  oils  and  sauces  bought  at  shops  are  not 
so  pure  as  those  thy  servants  make  within 
the  compound,  nor  does  the  cook  here  pre- 
pare things  to  my  taste.  Canst  send  me 
Feng-yi,  who  understands  our  customs  ?  Thy 
son  has  no  great  appetite,  and  I  hope  that  food 
prepared  in  homely  ways  may  tempt  him  to 
linger  longer  at  the  table.  He  is  greatly  over- 
worked, and  if  he  eat  not  well,  with  enjoyment 
of  his  rice,  the  summer  will  quite  likely  find 
him  ill. 

Thy  daughter  and  thy  family  who  touch 
thy  hand, 

Kwei-li 


Chinese     Courtyard  139 


VI 


My  Dear  Mother, 

Thy  letter  came,  and  I  thank  thee  for  thy 
advice.  It  is  most  difficult  to  act  upon.  I 
cannot  shut  Wan-li  within  an  inner  chamber, 
nor  can  I  keep  her  without  rice  until  she  sees 
the  wisdom  of  her  ways.  The  times  are  truly 
different;  we  mothers  of  the  present  have 
lost  our  power  to  control  our  children,  and 
cannot  as  in  former  days  compel  obedience.  I 
can  only  talk  to  her;  she  laughs.  I  quote  to 
her  the  words  of  the  Sage:  "Is  any  blessing 
better  than  to  give  a  man  a  son,  man's  prime 
desire  by  which  he  and  his  name  shall  live  be- 
yond himself;  a  foot  for  him  to  stand  on,  a  hand 
to  stop  his  falling,  so  that  in  his  son's  youth  he 
will  be  young  again,  and  in  his  strength  be 
strong."  Be  the  mother  of  men;  and  I  hear 
that  that  is  China's  trouble.  She  has  too 
many  children,  too  many  thousands  of  clutch- 
ing baby  fingers,  too  many  tiny  mouths 
asking  for  their  daily  food.  I  am  told,  by 
this  learned  daughter  of  mine,  that  China  has 
given  no  new  thing  to  the  world  for  many  tens 


140  My    Lady    of    the 

of  centuries.  She  has  no  time  to  write,  no 
time  to  think  of  new  inventions;  she  must 
work  for  the  morrow's  rice.  "How  have  you 
eaten?"  is  the  salutation  that  one  Chinese 
makes  to  another  when  meeting  on  a  pathway; 
and  in  that  question  is  the  root  of  our  greatest 
need.  I  am  told  that  we  are  a  nation  of  rank 
materialists;  that  we  pray  only  for  benefits 
that  we  may  feel  or  see,  instead  of  asking  for 
the  blessings  of  the  Spirit  to  be  sent  us  from 
above;  that  the  women  of  my  time  and  kind 
are  the  ruin  of  the  country,  with  our  cry  of 
sons,  sons! 

But  if  our  girls  flaunt  motherhood,  if  this 
thought  of  each  one  for  himself  prevails,  what 
will  become  of  us,  a  nation  that  depends  upon 
its  worship  of  the  ancestors  for  its  only  prac- 
tical religion?  The  loosening  of  the  family 
bonds,  the  greater  liberty  of  the  single  person, 
means  the  lessening  of  the  restraining  power 
of  this  old  religion  which  depends  upon  the 
family  life  and  the  unity  of  that  life.  To  do 
away  with  it  is  to  do  away  with  the  greatest 
influence  for  good  in  China  to-day.  What 
will  become  of  the  filial  piety  that  has  been 
the  backbone  of  our  country?  This  family 
life  has  always  been,  from  time  immemorial, 
the  foundation-stone  of  our  Empire,  and 


Chinese     Courtyard  141 

filial  piety  is  the  foundation-stone  of  the  family 
life. 

I  read  not  long  since,  in  the  Christian's 
Sacred  Book,  the  commandment,  "Honour  thy 
father  and  thy  mother,  that  thy  days  may  be 
long  in  the  land  which  the  Lord  thy  God  hath 
given  thee,"  and  I  thought  that  perhaps  in 
the  observance  of  that  rule  is  to  be  found  one 
of  the  chief  causes  for  the  long  continuance  of 
the  Chinese  Empire.  What  is  there  to  com- 
pare in  binding  power  to  the  family  customs  of 
our  people  ?  Their  piety,  their  love  one  for 
the  other  and  that  to  which  it  leads,  the  faith- 
fulness of  husband  to  his  wife — all  these,  in 
spite  of  what  may  be  said  against  them  by 
the  newer  generation,  do  exist  and  must  in- 
fluence the  nation  for  its  good.  And  this  one 
great  fact  must  be  counted  amongst  the  forces, 
if  it  is  not  the  greatest  force,  which  bind  the 
Chinese  people  in  bonds  strong  as  ropes  of 
twisted  bamboo. 

Our  boys  and  girls  will  not  listen;  they  are 
trying  to  be  what  they  are  not,  trying  to  wear 
clothes  not  made  for  them,  trying  to  be  like 
nations  and  people  utterly  foreign  to  them; 
and  they  will  not  succeed.  But,  "into  a  sack 
holding  a  ri,  only  a  ri  will  go,"  and  these 
sacks  of  our  young  people  are  full  to  overflow- 


142  My    Lady    of    the 

ing  with  this,  which  seems  to  me  dearly 
acquired  knowledge,  and  there  is  not  room 
for  more.  Time  will  help,  and  they  will  learn 
caution  and  discretion  in  life's  halls  of  experi- 
ence, and  we  can  only  guard  their  footsteps 
as  best  we  may. 

In  the  meantime,  Mother  mine,  my  days  are 
full  and  worried,  and  I,  as  in  the  olden  time, 
can  only  come  to  thee  with  my  rice-bowl 
filled  with  troubles  and  pour  them  all  into  thy 
kindly  lap.  It  is  my  only  comfort,  as  thy  son 
is  bitter  and  will  not  talk  with  patience,  and 
it  would  not  be  seemly  for  me  to  open  wide 
my  heart  to  strangers;  but  I  know  thou  lovest 
me  and  art  full  of  years  and  knowledge  and 
will  help  me  find  the  way. 

Kwei-li 


Chinese     Courtyard  143 


VII 

My  Dear  Mother, 

These  are  most  troublous  times,  and  thy  son 
is  harassed  to  the  verge  of  sickness.  Shang- 
hai is  filled  with  Chinese  who  come  seeking 
foreign  protection.  Within  the  narrow  con- 
fines of  the  foreign  settlements,  it  is  said,  there 
are  nearly  a  million  Chinese,  half  of  them 
refugees  from  their  home  provinces,  fearing 
for  their  money  or  their  lives,  or  both.  The 
great  red  houses  on  the  fashionable  streets, 
built  by  the  English  for  their  homes,  are  sold 
at  fabulous  prices  to  these  gentlemen,  who 
have  brought  their  families  and  their  silver  to 
the  only  place  they  know  where  the  foreign 
hand  is  strong  enough  to  protect  them  from 
their  own  people.  There  are  many  queer 
tales;  some  are  simply  the  breath  of  the  unkind 
winds  that  seem  to  blow  from  nowhere  but 
gain  in  volume  with  each  thing  they  touch. 
Tan  Toatai,  who  paid  300,000  taels  for  his 
position  as  Toatai  of  Shanghai,  and  who  left 
for  his  home  province  with  3,000,000  taels, 
as  the  gossips  say,  was  asked  to  contribute 


144  My    Lady     of    the 

of  his  plenty  for  the  help  of  the  new  govern- 
ment. He  promised;  then  changed  his  mind, 
and  carefully  gathered  all  his  treasures  to- 
gether and  left  secretly  one  night  for  Shanghai. 
Now  he  is  in  fear  for  his  life  and  dares  not  leave 
the  compound  walls  of  the  foreigner  who  has 
befriended  him. 

It  makes  one  wonder  what  is  the  use  of  these 
fortunes  that  bring  endless  sorrow  by  the 
misery  of  winning  them,  guarding  them,  and 
the  fear  of  losing  them.  They  who  work  for 
them  are  as  the  water  buffalo  who  turns  the 
water-wheel  and  gets  but  his  daily  food  and 
the  straw- thatched  hut  in  which  he  rests. 
For  the  sake  of  this  food  and  lodging  which 
falls  to  the  lot  of  all,  man  wastes  his  true 
happiness  which  is  so  hard  to  win. 

These  Chinese  of  the  foreign  settlements 
seem  alien  to  me.  Yuan  called  upon  thy  son 
the  other  day,  and  had  the  temerity  to  ask  for 
me — a  most  unheard-of  thing.  I  watched  him 
as  he  went  away,  dressed  in  European  clothes, 
as  nearly  all  of  our  younger  men  are  clothed 
these  days,  and  one  would  never  know  that 
he  had  worn  his  hair  otherwise  than  short. 
There  are  no  more  neatly  plaited  braids  hang- 
ing down  the  back,  and  the  beautiful  silks  and 
satins,  furs  and  peacock  feathers  are  things  of 


«  1 

'*£ 

.s  ^ 

"°  §* 


"3 
-§ 


Chinese     Courtyard  145 

the  past.  These  peacock  feathers,  emblems 
of  our  old  officialdom,  are  now  bought  by  for- 
eign ladies  as  a  trimming  on  their  hats. 
Shades  of  Li  Hung-chang  and  Chang  Chih- 
tung!  What  will  they  say  if  looking  over  the 
barriers  they  see  the  insignia  of  their  rank  and 
office  gracing  the  glowing  head-gear  of  the 
tourists  who  form  great  parties  and  come 
racing  from  over  the  seas  to  look  at  us  as  at 
queer  animals  from  another  world? 

It  is  not  only  the  men  who  are  copying  the 
foreign  customs  and  clothing.  Our  women  are 
now  seen  in  public,  driving  with  their  hus- 
bands, or  walking  arm  in  arm  upon  the  public 
street.  I  even  saw  a  Chinese  woman  driving 
that  "devil  machine,"  a  motor-car,  with  her 
own  hands.  She  did  not  seem  a  woman,  but 
an  tmsexed  thing  that  had  as  little  of  woman- 
hood as  the  car  that  took  her  along  so  swiftly. 
I  promised  to  send  Tah-li  the  new  hair  orna- 
ments, but  there  are  no  hair  ornaments  worn 
now.  The  old  jewels  are  laid  aside,  the  jade 
and  pearls  are  things  of  the  past.  The  hair  is 
puffed  and  knotted  in  a  way  most  unbecoming 
to  the  face.  It  is  neither  of  the  East  nor  of 
the  West,  but  a  half-caste  thing,  that  brands 
its  wearer  as  a  woman  of  no  race. 

Dost  thou  remember  the  story  over  which 


146  My    Lady    of    the 

the  Chinese. in  all  the  Empire  laughed  within 
their  sleeves?  Her  Majesty,  the  Empress 
Dowager,  was  on  most  friendly  terms  with  the 
wife  of  the  Minister  of  the  United  States  of 
America,  and  on  one  occasion  gave  her  as  a 
gift  a  set  of  combs  enclosed  within  a  box  of 
silver.  The  foreign  lady  was  delighted,  and 
did  not  see  the  delicate  sarcasm  hidden  within 
the  present.  Combs — the  foreign  ladies  need 
them!  We  Chinese  like  the  locks  most 
smoothly  brushed  and  made  to  glisten  and 
shine  with  the  scented  elm,  but  they,  the 
foreign  ladies,  allow  them  to  straggle  in  rude 
disorder  around  their  long,  grave  faces,  which 
are  so  ugly  in  our  eyes. 

Thou  hast  asked  me  for  the  latest  style  in 
dress.  It  is  impossible  to  say  what  is  the 
latest  style.  Some  women  wear  a  jacket  far 
too  short  and  trousers  tight  as  any  coat  sleeve. 
The  modest  ones  still  cover  them  with  skirts; 
but  I  have  seen  \vomen  walking  along  the  street 
who  should  certainly  stay  within  the  inner 
courtyard  and  hide  their  shame.  For  those 
who  wear  the  skirt,  the  old,  wide-pleated  model 
has  gone  by,  and  a  long  black  skirt  that  is  nearly 
European  is  now  worn.  It  is  not  graceful, 
but  it  is  far  better  than  the  trousers  worn  by 
women  who  walk  along  so  stiffly  upon  their 


Chinese    Courtyard  147 

"golden  lilies."  These  tiny  feet  to  me  are 
beautiful,  when  covered  with  gay  embroidery 
they  peep  from  scarlet  skirts;  but  they  too 
are  passing,  and  we  hear  no  more  the  crying 
of  the  children  in  the  courtyards.  I  am  told 
that  the  small-footed  woman  of  China  is  of  the 
past,  along  with  the  long  finger-nails  of  our 
gentlemen  and  scholars;  and  I  am  asked  why 
I  do  not  unbind  my  feet.  I  say,  "I  am  too 
old;  I  have  suffered  in  the  binding,  why 
suffer  in  the  unbinding?"  I  have  conceded  to 
the  new  order  by  allowing  unbound  feet  to  all 
my  girls,  and  everywhere  my  family  is  held  up 
as  an  example  of  the  new  Chinese.  They 
do  not  know  of  the  many  bitter  tears  I  have 
shed  over  the  thought  that  my  daughters 
would  look  like  women  of  the  servant  class 
and  perhaps  not  make  a  good  marriage;  but 
I  was  forced  to  yield  to  their  father,  whose 
foreign  travel  had  taught  him  to  see  beauty 
in  ugly,  natural  feet.  Even  now,  when  I  see 
Wan-li  striding  across  the  grass,  I  blush  for 
her  and  wish  she  could  walk  more  gracefully. 
My  feet  caused  me  many  moons  of  pain,  but 
they  are  one  of  the  great  marks  of  my  lady- 
hood, and  I  yet  feel  proud  as  I  come  into  a 
room  with  the  gentle  swaying  motions  of  the 
bamboo  in  a  breeze;  although  my  daughter 


148  My    Lady    of    the 

who  supports  me  takes  one  great  step  to  five 
of  mine. 

The  curse  of  foot  binding  does  not  fall  so 
heavily  upon  women  like  myself,  who  may 
sit  and  broider  the  whole  day  through,  or,  if 
needs  must  travel,  can  be  borne  upon  the 
shoulders  of  their  chair  bearers,  but  it  is  a 
bane  to  the  poor  girl  whose  parents  hope  to 
have  one  in  the  family  who  may  marry  above 
their  station,  and  hoping  thus,  bind  her  feet. 
If  this  marriage  fails  and  she  is  forced  to 
work  within  her  household,  or,  even  worse, 
if  she  is  forced  to  toil  within  the  fields  or  add 
her  mite  gained  by  most  heavy  labour  to  help 
fill  the  many  eager  mouths  at  home,  then  she 
should  have  our  pity.  We  have  all  seen  the 
small-footed  woman  pulling  heavy  boats  along 
the  tow-path,  or  leaning  on  their  hoes  to  rest 
their  tired  feet  while  working  in  the  fields  of 
cotton.  To  her  each  day  is  a  day  of  pain; 
and  this  new  law  forbidding  the  binding  of 
the  feet  of  children  will  come  as  Heaven's 
blessing.  But  it  will  not  cease  at  once,  as 
so  many  loudly  now  proclaim.  It  will  take 
at  least  three  generations;  her  children's 
children  will  all  quite  likely  have  natural  feet. 
The  people  far  in  the  country,  far  from  the 
noise  of  change  and  progress,  will  not  feel 


Chinese     Courtyard  149 

immediately  that  they  can  wander  so  far 
afield  from  the  old  ideas  of  what  is  beautiful 
in  their  womanhood. 

I  notice,  as  I  open  wide  my  casement,  that 
the  rain  has  come,  and  across  the  distant 
fields  it  is  falling  upon  the  new-sown  rice  and 
seems  to  charm  the  earth  into  the  thought 
that  spring  is  here,  bringing  forth  the  faint 
green  buds  on  magnolia,  ash,  and  willow. 
Dost  thou  remember  the  verse  we  used  to  sing: 

"Oh  she  is  good,  the  little  rain,  and  well  she  knows 

our  need, 
Who  cometh  in  the  time  of  spring  to  aid  the 

sun-drawn  seed. 
She   wanders  with   a  friendly  wind  through  silent 

heighths  unseen, 

The  furrows  feel   her  happy  tears,  and  lo,  the 
land  is  green!" 

I  must  send  a  servant  with  the  rain  cover- 
ings for  the  children,  that  they  may  not  get 
wet  in  returning  from  their  schools. 

We  greet  thee,  all. 

Kwei-li 


150  My    Lady    of    the 


VIII 

My  Dear  Mother  9 

Last  night  I  heard  a  great  wailing  in  the 
servants'  courtyard,  and  found  there  the  maid 
of  thy  old  f riend<Tang  Tai-tai.  She  came  from 
Nanking  to  us,  as  she  has  no  one  left  in  all  the 
world.  She  is  a  Manchu  and  has  lived  all  her 
life  in  the  Manchu  family  of  Tang  within  the 
Tartar  city  of  Nanking.  It  seems  the  soldiers, 
besieging  the  city,  placed  their  guns  on  Purple 
Hill,  so  that  they  would  cause  destruction  only 
to  the  Tartar  city,  and  it  was  levelled  to  the 
ground.  No  stone  remains  upon  another; 
and  the  family  she  had  served  so  faithfully 
were  either  killed  in  the  battle  that  raged 
so  fiercely,  or  were  afterward  taken  to  the 
grounds  of  Justice  to  pay  with  their  life  for 
the  fact  that  they  belonged  to  the  Imperial 
Clan.  She  is  old,  this  faithful  servant,  and 
now  claims  my  protection.  It  is  another 
mouth  to  feed;  but  there  is  so  much  unhappi- 
ness  that  if  it  were  within  my  power  I  would 
quench  with  rains  of  food  and  drink  the  an- 
guish this  cruel  war  has  brought  upon  so  many 


Chinese     Courtyard  151 

innocent  ones.  A  mat  on  which  to  sleep,  a 
few  more  bowls  of  rice,  these  are  the  only  seeds 
that  I  may  sow  within  the  field  of  love,  and  I 
dare  not  them  withhold. 

I  am  most  sorrowful  for  these  poor  Man- 
chus.  For  generations  they  have  received  a 
pension  from  the  government;  to  every  man- 
child  an  allowance  has  been  made;  and  now 
they  find  themselves  with  nothing.  Even 
their  poor  homes  are  piles  of  stone  and  rubbish. 
What  will  they  do  to  gain  their  food  in  this 
great  country  which  is  already  full  to  over- 
flowing? They  are  so  pitiful,  these  old  men 
and  women  thrown  so  suddenly  upon  the 
world.  Their  stories  pierce  my  marrow,  and 
I  would  that  my  sleeve  were  long  and  wide 
enough  to  cover  all  the  earth  and  shelter  these 
poor  helpless  ones.  One  old  man — his  years 
must  have  been  near  eighty — came  to  our  door 
for  help.  I  talked  to  him  and  found  that, 
until  his  sons  were  killed  before  his  eyes,  his 
home  torn  to  the  ground,  he  had  never  been 
without  the  city's  walls.  He  said,  just  like  a 
child,  "Why  should  I  go?  My  wife,  my  sons, 
my  home,  my  all,  were  within  the  walls;  why 
go  outside?" 

Each  hour  brings  us  fresh  rumours  of  the 
actions  of  the  rebels.  Poor  Liang  Tai-tai  was 


152  My    Lady    of    the 

here  and  in  the  sorest  trouble.  Her  husband 
and  her  brother  were  officers  in  the  army  of 
Yuan,  and  when  in  Hanking  were  shot  along 
with  twenty  of  their  brother  officers,  because 
they  would  not  join  the  Southern  forces.  To 
add  to  China's  trouble,  the  Southern  pirates 
are  attacking  boats;  and  I  am  glad  to  say, 
although  it  sounds  most  cruel,  that  the  gov- 
ernment is  taking  measures  both  quick  and 
just.  Ten  men  were  captured  and  were  being 
brought  by  an  English  ship  to  Canton,  and 
when  in  neutral  waters  it  is  said  a  Chinese 
gunboat  steamed  alongside  with  an  order  for 
the  prisoners.  As  they  stepped  upon  the 
Chinese  boat,  each  man  was  shot.  The 
English  were  most  horrified,  and  have  spoken 
loudly  in  all  the  papers  of  the  acts  of  barbar- 
ism; but  they  do  not  understand  our  people. 
They  must  be  frightened;  especially  at  a  time 
like  this,  when  men  are  watching  for  the 
chance  to  take  advantage  of  their  country's 
turmoil 

These  pirates  of  Canton  have  always  been  a 
menace.  Each  village  in  that  country  must 
be  forever  on  the  defensive,  for  no  man  is 
safe  who  has  an  ounce  of  gold.  When  father 
was  the  prefect  of  Canton,  I  remember  seeing 
a  band  of  pirates  brought  into  the  Yamen,  a 


Chinese    Courtyard  153 

ring  of  iron  around  the  collarbone,  from  which 
a  chain  led  to  the  prisoner  on  either  side.  It 
was  brutal,  but  it  allowed  no  chance  of  escape 
for  these  men,  dead  to  all  humanity,  and  des- 
perate, knowing  there  awaited  them  long 
days  of  prison,  and  in  the  end  they  knew 
not  what. 

In  those  days  imprisonment  was  the  greatest 
of  all  evils;  it  was  not  made  a  place  of  comfort. 
For  forty-eight  long  hours,  the  man  within  the 
clutches  of  the  law  went  hungry;  then,  if  no 
relative  or  friend  came  forth  to  feed  him,  he 
was  allowed  one  bowl  of  rice  and  water  for 
each  day.  A  prison  then  meant  ruin  to  a  man 
with  money,  because  the  keepers  of  the  outer 
gate,  the  keepers  of  the  inner  gate,  the  guar- 
dian of  the  prison  doors,  the  runners  in  the 
corridor,  the  jailer  at  the  cell,  each  had  a  hand 
that  ached  for  silver.  A  bowl  of  rice  bought  at 
the  tea-shop  for  ten  cash,  by  the  time  the  wait- 
ing hungry  man  received  it,  cost  many  silver 
dollars.  Yet  a  prison  should  not  be  made  a 
tempting  place  of  refuge  and  vacation;  if  so 
in  times  6f  cold  and  hunger  it  will  be  filled 
with  those  who  would  rather  suffer  shame  than 
work. 

Another  thing  the  people  who  cry  loudly 
against  our  old-time  Courts  of  Justice  do  not 


154  My    Lady    of    the 

understand,  is  the  crushing,  grinding,  naked 
poverty  that  causes  the  people  in  this  over- 
crowded province  to  commit  most  brutal 
deeds.  The  penalties  must  match  the  deeds, 
and  frighten  other  evil-doers.  If  the  people 
do  not  fear  death,  what  good  is  there  in  using 
death  as  a  deterrent;  and  our  Southern  people 
despise  death,  because  of  their  excessive  labour 
in  seeking  the  means  of  life.  But— 

What  a  subject  for  a  letter!  I  can  see  thee 
send  for  a  cup  of  thy  fragrant  sun-dried  tea, 
mixed  with  the  yellow  flower  of  the  jessamine, 
to  take  away  the  thoughts  of  death  and  evil 
and  the  wickedness  of  the  world  outside  thy 
walls.  It  will  never  touch  thee,  Mother  mine, 
because  the  Gods  are  holding  thee  all  safe 
within  their  loving  hands. 

Thy  daughter 

Kwei-li. 


Chinese     Courtyard  155 


IX 

My  Mother, 

I  have  most  joyful  news  to  tell  thee.  My 
father  has  arrived!  He  came  quite  without 
warning,  saying  he  must  know  the  changing 
times  from  word  of  mouth  instead  of  reading 
it  in  papers.  He  has  upset  my  household 
with  his  many  servants.  My  father  keeps  to 
his  old  ways  and  customs  and  travels  with  an 
army  of  his  people.  His  pipe  man,  his  hat 
man,  his  cook,  his  boy — well,  thou  remem- 
berest  when  he  descended  upon  us  in  Sezchuan 
— yet  he  could  bring  ten  times  the  number, 
and  his  welcome  would  be  as  warm.  The 
whole  town  knows  he  is  our  guest,  and  for- 
eigners and  Chinese  have  vied  one  with  the 
other  to  do  him  honour.  The  foreign  papers 
speak  of  him  as  "the  greatest  Chinese  since 
Li  Hung-chang,"  and  many  words  are  written 
about  his  fifty  years'  service  as  a  high  official. 
The  story  is  retold  of  his  loyalty  to  Her 
Majesty  at  the  time  of  the  Boxer  uprising, 
when  he  threatened  the  foreigners  that  if  Her 
Majesty  was  even  frightened,  he  would  turn 


156  My    Lady    of    the 

his  troops  upon  Shanghai  and  drive  the 
foreigners  into  the  sea.  I  wonder  if  the 
present  government  can  gain  the  love  the 
Dowager  Empress  drew  from  all  who  served 
her. 

My  father  was  the  pioneer  of  the  present 
education,  so  say  the  papers,  and  it  is  remem- 
bered that  his  school  for  girls  in  the  province 
where  he  ruled,  nearly  caused  him  the  loss  of 
his  position,  as  His  Excellency,  Chang  Chih- 
tung,  memorialised  the  throne  and  said  that 
women  should  not  have  book  learning;  that 
books  would  only  give  them  a  place  in  which 
to  hide  their  threads  and  needles.  It  is  also 
said  of  him  that  he  was  always  against  the 
coming  of  the  foreigners.  They  could  obtain 
no  mine,  no  railway,  no  concession  in  a  prov- 
ince where  he  was  representing  his  Empress. 
China  was  closed,  so  far  as  lay  within  his 
power,  to  even  men  of  religion  from  other  lands. 
It  was  he  who  first  said,  "The  missionary,  the 
merchant,  and  then  the  gunboat." 

My  father  will  not  talk  with  men  about  the 
present  trials  of  China;  he  says,  most  justly, 
that  he  who  is  out  of  office  should  not  meddle 
in  the  government.  When  asked  if  he  will 
give  the  results  of  his  long  life  and  great 
experience  to  the  Republic,  he  answers  that 


Chinese     Courtyard  157 

he  owes  his  love  and  loyalty  to  the  old  regime 
under  which  he  gained  his  wealth  and  honours; 
and  then  he  shakes  his  head  and  says  he  is  an 
old  man,  nothing  but  wet  ashes.  But  they 
do  not  see  the  laughter  in  his  eyes;  for  my 
father  "is  like  the  pine-tree,  ever  green,  the 
symbol  of  unflinching  purpose  and  vigorous 
old  age." 

So  many  old-time  friends  have  been  to  see 
him.  Father,  now  that  the  heavy  load  of 
officialdom  is  laid  aside,  delights  to  sit  within 
the  courtyards  with  these  friends  and  play  at 
verse-making.  No  man  of  his  time  is  found 
lacking  in  that  one  great  attribute  of  a  Chinese 
gentleman.  He  has  treasures  of  poetry  that 
are  from  the  hands  of  friends  long  since  passed 
within  the  Vale  of  Longevity.  These  poems 
are  from  the  pens  of  men  who  wrote  of  the 
longing  for  the  spiritual  life,  or  the  beauties  of 
the  world  without  their  doors,  or  the  pleasure 
of  association  with  old  and  trusted  friends.  I 
read  some  scrolls  the  other  day,  and  it  was  as 
though  "  aeolian  harps  had  caught  some  strayed 
wind  from  'an  unknown  world  and  brought  its 
messages  to  me."  It  is  only  by  the  men  of 
other  days  that  poetry  is  appreciated,  who 
take  the  time  to  look  around  them,  to  whom 
the  quiet  life,  the  life  of  thought  and  medita- 


158  My    Lady    of    the 

tion  is  as  vital  as  the  air  they  breathe.  To 
love  the  beautiful  in  life  one  must  have  time 
to  sit  apart  from  the  worry  and  the  rush  of 
the  present  day.  He  must  have  time  to  look 
deep  within  his  hidden  self  and  weigh  the 
things  that  count  for  happiness;  and  he  must 
use  most  justly  all  his  hours  of  leisure,  a 
thing  which  modern  life  has  taught  us  to  hold 
lightly. 

But  with  our  race  verse-making  has  always 
been  a  second  nature.  In  the  very  beginning 
of  our  history,  the  Chinese  people  sang  their 
songs  of  kings  and  princes,  of  the  joys  of  fam- 
ily life  and  love  and  home  and  children.  It 
is  quite  true  that  they  did  not  delve  deep  into 
the  mines  of  hidden  passions,  as  their  songs 
are  what  songs  should  be,  telling  joyful  tales 
of  happiness  and  quiet  loves.  They  are  not 
like  the  songs  of  warrior  nations,  songs  of 
battle,  lust  and  blood,  but  songs  of  peace  and 
quiet  and  deep  contentment.  When  our 
women  sang,  like  all  women  who  try  to  voice 
the  thoughts  within  them,  they  sang  their 
poems  in  a  sadder  key,  all  filled  with  care,  and 
cried  of  love's  call  to  its  mate,  of  resignation 
and  sometimes  of  despair. 

My  father  learned  to  love  the  poets  in 
younger  days,  but  he  still  reads  them  o'er 


Chinese     Courtyard  159 

and  o'er.  He  says  they  take  him  back  to 
other  years  when  life  with  all  its  dreams  of 
beauty,  love,  and  romance,  lay  before  him. 
It  brings  remembrance  of  youth's  golden  days 
when  thoughts  of  fame  and  mad  ambition 
came  to  him  with  each  morning's  light.  This 
father  of  mine,  who  was  stiffly  bound  with 
ceremony  and  acts  of  statecraft  for  ten  long 
months  of  the  year,  had  the  temerity  to  ask 
two  months'  leave  of  absence  from  his  duties, 
when  he  went  to  his  country  place  in  the  hills, 
to  his  "Garden  of  the  Pleasure  of  Peace."  It 
was  always  in  the  early  spring  when  "that 
Goddess  had  spread  upon  the  budding  willow 
her  lovely  mesh  of  silken  threads,  and  the 
rushes  were  renewing  for  the  year."  He  sat 
beneath  the  bamboos  swaying  in  the  wind 
like  dancing  girls,  and  saw  the  jessamine 
and  magnolia  put  forth  their  buds. 

What  happy  days  they  were  when  father 
came!  For  me,  who  lived  within  the  garden 
all  the  year,  it  was  just  a  plain,  great  garden; 
but  when  he  came  it  was  transformed.  It  be- 
came a  place  of  rare  enchantment,  with  fairy 
palaces  and  lakes  of  jewelled  water,  and  the 
lotus  flowers  took  on  a  loveliness  for  which 
there  is  no  name.  We  would  sit  hand  in  hand 
in  our  gaily  painted  tea-house,  and  watch  the 


160  My    Lady    of    the 

growing  of  the  lotus  from  the  first  unfurling 
of  the  leaf  to  the  fall  of  the  dying  flower. 
When  it  rained,  we  would  see  the  leaves  raise 
their  eager,  dark-green  cups  until  filled,  then 
bend  down  gracefully  to  empty  their  fulness, 
and  rise  to  catch  the  drops  again. 

The  sound  of  the  wind  in  the  cane-fields 
came  to  us  at  night-time  as  we  watched  the 
shimmer  of  the  fireflies.  We  sat  so  silently 
that  the  only  thing  to  tell  us  that  the  wild 
duck  sought  his  mate  amidst  the  grass,  was 
the  swaying  of  the  reed  stems,  or  the  rising  of 
the  teal  with  whirring  wings. 

My  father  loved  the  silence,  and  taught  me 
that  it  is  in  silence,  in  the  quiet  places,  rather 
than  on  the  house-tops,  that  one  can  hear  the 
spirit's  call,  and  forget  the  clanging  of  the 
world.  It  is  the  great  gift  which  the  God  of 
nature  alone  can  give,  and  "he  has  found 
happiness  who  has  won  through  the  stillness 
of  the  spirit  the  Perfect  Vision,  and  this  still- 
ness comes  through  contentment  that  is 
regardless  of  the  world.", 

He  often  said  to  me  that  we  are  a  caravan 
of  beings,  wandering  through  life's  pathways, 
hungering  to  taste  of  happiness,  which  comes 
to  us  when  we  find  plain  food  sweet,  rough 
garments  fine,  and  contentment  in  the  home. 


Chinese     Courtyard  161 

It  comes  when  we  are  happy  in  a  simple  way, 
allowing  our  wounds  received  in  life's  battles 
to  be  healed  by  the  moon-beams,  which  send 
an  ointment  more  precious  than  the  oil  of 
sandalwood. 

I  could  go  on  for  pages,  Mother  mine,  of 
the  lessons  of  my  father,  this  grand  old  man, 
"who  steeled  his  soul  and  tamed  his  thoughts 
and  got  his  body  in  control  by  sitting  in  the 
silence  and  being  one  with  nature,  God,  the 
maker  of  us  all."  And  when  I  think  of  all 
these  things,  it  is  hard  to  believe  that  men  who 
love  the  leisure,  the  poetry,  the  beautiful 
things  of  life,  men  like  my  father,  must  pass 
away.  It  seems  to  me  it  will  be  a  day  of  great 
peril  for  China,  for  our  young  ones,  when  these 
men  of  the  past  lose  their  hold  on  the  growing 
mind.  As  rapidly  as  this  takes  place,  the 
reverence  for  the  old-time  gentleman,  the 
quiet  lady  of  the  inner  courtyards,  will  wane, 
and  reverence  will  be  supplanted  by  discour- 
tesy, faith  by  doubt,  and  love  of  the  Gods  by 
unbelief  and  impiety. 

Yet  they  say  he  does  not  stand  for  progress. 
What  is  progress?  What  is  life?  The  poet 
truly  cries:  "How  short  a  time  it  is  that  we 
are  here !  Why  then  not  set  our  hearts  at  rest, 
why  wear  the  soul  with  anxious  thoughts? 


162  My    Lady    of    the 

If  we  want  not  wealth,  if  we  want  not  power, 
let  us  stroll  the  bright  hours  as  they  pass,  in 
gardens  midst  the  flowers,  mounting  the  hills 
to  sing  our  songs,  or  weaving  verses  by  the  lily 
ponds.  Thus  may  we  work  out  our  allotted 
span,  content  with  life,  our  spirits  free  from 
care." 

My  father  has  a  scroll  within  his  room  that 
says: 

"For  fifty  years  I  plodded  through  the  vale  of 

lust  and  strife, 
Then  through  my  dreams  there  flashed  a  ray 

of  the  old  sweet  peaceful  life. 
No  scarlet  tasselled  hat  of  state  can  vie  with 

soft  repose; 
Grand  mansions  do  not  taste  the  joys  that 

the  poor  man's  cabin  knows. 
I  hate  the  threatening  clash  of  arms  when 

fierce  retainers  throng, 
I  loathe  the  drunkard's  revels  and  the  sound 

of  fife  and  song; 
But  I  love  to  seek  a  quiet  nook,  and  some 

old  volume  bring 
Where  I  can  see  the  wild  flowers  bloom  and 

hear  the  birds  in  spring." 

Ah,  dear  one,  my  heart  flows  through  my 
pen,  which  is  the  messenger  of  the  distant 
soul  to  thee,  my  Mother. 

Kwei-li 


Chinese     Courtyard  163 


My  Dear  Mother •, 

My  days  are  passed  like  a  water-wheel 
awhirl,  and  I  can  scarcely  find  time  to  attend 
to  the  ordinary  duties  of  my  household.  I 
fear  I  seem  neglectful  of  thee,  and  I  will  try 
to  be  more  regular  with  my  letters,  so  that 
thou  wilt  not  need  reproach  me.  To-night  my 
house  is  quiet  and  all  are  sleeping,  and  I  can 
chat  with  thee  without  the  many  interruptions 
that  come  from  children,  servants,  and  friends 
during  the  waking  hours. 

I  have  had  callers  all  the  day;  my  last,  the 
wife  of  the  Japanese  Consul,  who  brought 
with  her  two  children.  They  were  like  little 
butterflies,  dressed  in  their  gay  kimonas  and 
bright  red  obis,  their  straight  black  hair 
framing  their  tiny  elfin  faces.  I  was  delighted 
and  could  scarcely  let  them  go.  Their  mother 
says  she  will  send  to  me  their  photographs,  and 
I  will  send  them  to  thee,  as  they  seem  children 
from  another  world.  They  are  much  prettier, 
in  my  eyes,  than  the  foreign  children,  with 
their  white  hair  and  colourless,  blue  eyes,  who 


164  My    Lady     of    the 

always  seem  to  be  clothed  in  white.  That 
seems  not  natural  for  a  child,  as  it  is  our 
mourning  colour,  and  children  should  wear 
gay  colours,  as  they  are  symbols  of  joy 
and  gladness. 

My  husband  watched  them  go  away  with 
looks  of  hatred  and  disdain  within  his  eyes, 
and  when  I  called  them  Butterflies  of  Gay 
Nippon,  he  gave  an  ejaculation  of  great 
disgust,  as  at  this  time  he  is  not  o'erfond  of 
the  Japanese.  He  believes,  along  with  others, 
that  they  are  helping  the  rebels  with  their 
money,  and  we  know  that  many  Japanese 
officers  are  fighting  on  the  side  of  the  Southern 
forces.  He  could  not  forget  the  words  I  used, 
"Dainty  Butterflies,"  and  he  said  that  these 
dainty  butterflies  are  coming  far  too  fast, 
at  the  rate  of  many  tens  of  thousands  each 
year,  and  they  must  be  fed  and  clothed  and 
lodged,  and  Japan  is  far  too  small.  These 
pretty  babies  searching  for  a  future  home  are 
China's  greatest  menace.  Japan  feels  that 
her  destiny  lies  here  in  the  Far  East,  where 
she  is  overlord,  and  will  continue  as  such  until 
the  time,  if  it  ever  comes,  when  new  China, 
with  her  far  greater  wealth  and  her  myriads 
of  people,  dispute  the  power  of  the  little 
Island.  At  present  there  is  no  limit  to 


"3    - 
* 


Chinese     Courtyard  165 

Japan's  ambition.  Poor  China!  It  will 
take  years  and  tens  of  years  to  mould  her 
people  into  a  nation;  and  Japan  comes  to 
her  each  year,  buying  her  rice,  her  cotton  and 
her  silk. 

These  wily  merchants  travel  up  her  path- 
ways and  traverse  her  rivers  and  canals, 
selling,  buying,  and  spreading  broadcast  their 
influence.  There  are  eight  thousand  men  of 
Japan  in  Shanghai,  keen  young  men,  all 
looking  for  the  advantage  of  their  country. 
There  is  no  town  of  any  size  where  you  cannot 
find  a  Japanese.  They  have  driven  the 
traders  of  other  nationalities  from  many 
places;  the  Americans  especially  have  been 
compelled  to  leave;  and  now  there  is  a  bitter 
struggle  between  the  people  from  the  British 
Isles  and  the  Japanese  for  the  trade  of  our 
country.  In  the  olden  time  the  people  from 
Great  Britain  controlled  the  trade  of  our 
Yang-tse  Valley,  but  now  it  is  almost  wholly 
Japanese. 

The  British  merchant,  in  this  great  battle 
has  the  disadvantage  of  being  honest,  while 
the  trader  from  Japan  has  small  thoughts  of 
honesty  to  hold  him  to  a  business  transaction. 
We  say  here,  "One  can  hold  a  Japanese  to  a 
bargain  as  easily  as  one  can  hold  a  slippery 


166  My    Lady    of    the 

catfish  on  a  gourd."  The  Sons  of  Nippon 
have  another  point  in  their  favour:  the  British 
merchant  is  a  Westerner,  while  the  Japanese 
uses  to  the  full  his  advantage  of  being  an 
Oriental  like  ourselves.  Trade — trade — is 
what  Japan  craves,  and  it  is  according  to  its 
need  that  she  makes  friends  or  enemies.  It  is 
her  reason  for  all  she  does;  her  diplomacy,  her 
suavity  is  based  upon  it;  her  army  and  her 
vast  navy  are  to  help  gain  and  hold  it;  it  is 
the  end  and  aim  of  her  ambitions. 

We,  Chinese,  have  people — millions,  tens  of 
millions  of  them.  When  they  are  better 
educated,  when  China  is  more  prosperous, 
when  new  demands  and  higher  standards  of 
living  are  created,  when  the  coolie  will  not  be 
satisfied  with  his  bowl  of  rice  a  day  and  his 
one  blue  garment,  then  possibilities  of  com- 
merce will  be  unlimited.  Japan  sees  this  with 
eyes  that  look  far  into  the  future,  and  she 
wants  to  control  this  coming  trade — and  I 
fear  she  will.  She  has  an  ambition  that  is  as 
great  as  her  overpowering  belief  in  herself,  an 
ambition  to  be  in  the  East  what  England  is  in 
the  West;  and  she  is  working  patiently,  quietly, 
to  that  end.  We  fear  her;  but  we  are  helpless. 
I  hear  the  men  talk  bitterly;  but  what  can 
they  do.  WTe  must  not  be  another  Corea;  we 


Chinese     Courtyard  167 

must  wait  until  we  are  strong,  and  look  to 
other  hands  to  help  us  in  our  struggle. 

We  hope  much  from  America,  that  country 
which  has  so  wonderful  an  influence  upon  us, 
which  appeals  to  our  imagination  because 
it  is  great  and  strong  and  prosperous.  The 
suave  and  humorous  American,  with  his 
easy  ways,  is  most  popular  with  our  people, 
although  he  cannot  always  be  trusted  nor  is 
his  word  a  bond.  He  is  different  from  the 
man  of  England,  who  is  not  fond  of  people  not 
of  his  own  colour  and  will  not  try  to  disguise 
the  fact.  He  is  cold  and  shows  no  sympathy 
to  those  of  an  alien  race,  although  we  must 
admit  he  always  acts  with  a  certain  amount  of 
justice.  America  is  contemptuous  of  China 
and  her  people,  but  it  is  a  kindly  contempt, 
not  tinged  with  the  bitterness  of  the  other 
Powers,  and  we  hope,  because  of  that  kindli- 
ness and  also  because  of  trade  interests 
(the  American  is  noted  for  finding  and 
holding  the  place  that  yields  him  dollars), 
she  will  play  the  part  of  a  kindly  friend  and 
save  China  from  her  enemies  who  are  now 
watching  each  other  with  such  jealous  eyes. 
There  is  another  reason  why  we  like  America: 
she  does  not  seem  to  covet  our  land.  There 
is  no  Shang-tung  nor  Wei-hai-wei  for  her.  I 


168  My    Lady    of    the 

would  that  she  and  England  might  form  a  bond 
of  brotherhood  for  our  protection;  because  all 
the  world  knows  that  where  Germany,  Russia, 
or  Japan  has  power,  all  people  from  other 
lands  are  barred  by  close-shut  doors. 

Since  hearing  my  husband  talk  I  see  those 
babies  with  other  eyes,  with  eyes  of  knowledge 
and  dislike.  I  see  them  becoming  one  of  the 
two  great  classes  in  Japan — merchants  with 
grasping  hands  to  hold  fast  all  they  touch, 
or  men  of  war.  There  is  no  other  class.  And, 
too,  they  have  no  religion  to  restrict  them, 
irreverence  already  marks  their  attitude 
toward  their  gods.  They  will  imitate  and 
steal  what  they  want  from  other  countries, 
even  as  their  ancestors  took  their  religion, 
their  art,  their  code  of  ethics,  even  their 
writing,  from  other  peoples.  Their  past  is  a 
copy  of  the  East;  their  present  is  an  attempt 
to  be  a  copy  of  the  West.  They  cannot 
originate  or  make  a  thing  from  within  them- 
selves. 

Their  lives  are  coarse  and  sordid  when 
stripped  of  the  elaborate  courtesy  and  sham 
politeness  that  marks  their  dealings  with  the 
outside  world.  Their  courtesy,  what  is  it? 
This  thin  veneer  of  politeness  is  like  their 
polished  lacquer  that  covers  the  crumbling 


Chinese     Courtyard  169 

wood  within.  But  we  have  a  proverb,  "Even 
a  monkey  falls";  and  some  distant  day  the 
Western  world  that  thinks  so  highly  of  Japan 
will  see  beneath  the  surface  and  will  leave  her, 
and  the  great  pagoda  she  has  builded  without 
foundation  will  come  tumbling  down  like  the 
houses  of  sand  which  my  children  build  in  the 
garden.  It  will  be  seen  that  they  are  like 
their  beautiful  kimonas,  that  hang  so  grace- 
fully in  silken  folds.  But  take  away  the 
kimonas,  and  the  sons  and  daughters  of  that 
Empire  are  revealed  in  all  their  ugliness — 
coarse,  heavy,  sensual,  with  no  grace  or  spirit 
life  to  distinguish  them  from  animals. 

Do  I  speak  strongly,  my  Mother?  We  feel 
most  strongly  the  action  of  the  Japanese  in 
this,  our  time  of  trouble.  We  have  lost 
friends;  the  husbands,  brothers,  fathers  of 
our  women-folk  are  lying  in  long  trenches 
because  of  training  given  to  our  rebels  by  mem- 
bers of  that  race.  I  should  not  speak  so 
frankly,  but  it  is  only  to  thee  that  I  can  say 
what  is  within  my  heart.  I  must  put  the  bar 
of  silence  across  my  lips  with  all  save  thee;  and 
sitting  here  within  the  courtyard  I  hear  all 
that  goes  on  in  Yamen,  shop,  and  women's 
quarters.  One  need  not  leave  one's  doorway 
to  learn  of  the  great  world.  I  hear  my  sons 


170  My    Lady    of    the 

speak  of  new  China,  and  many  things  I  do  not 
understand;  my  husband  and  his  friends  talk 
more  sedately,  for  they  are  watching  thought- 
ful men,  trying  hard  to  steer  this,  our  ship  of 
State,  among  the  rocks  that  now  beset  it 
close  on  every  side.  My  daughters  bring  their 
friends,  my  servants  their  companions,  and 
the  gossip  of  our  busy  world  is  emptied  at  my 
feet. 

The  clock  strikes  one,  and  all  the  world's 
asleep  except 

Kwei-li 


Chinese     Courtyard  171 


XI 


She  is  here,  my  daughter-in-law,  and  I  can 
realise  in  a  small  degree  thy  feelings  when  I 
first  came  to  thy  household.  I  know  thou 
wert  prepared  to  give  me  the  same  love  and 
care  that  my  heart  longs  to  give  to  this,  the 
wife  of  my  eldest  son.  I  also  know  how  she 
feels  in  this  strange  place,  with  no  loved  faces 
near  her,  with  the  thought  that  perhaps  the 
new  home  will  mean  the  closed  doors  of 
a  prison,  and  the  husband  she  never  saw 
until  the  marriage  day  the  jealous  guardian 
thereof.  I  have  tried  to  give  her  welcome 
and  let  her  see  that  she  is  heart  of  our  hearts, 
a  part  of  us. 

She  is  different  from  the  young  girls  I  have 
seen  these  latter  days,  different  from  my 
daughters,  and — I  may  say  it  to  thee,  my 
Mother — a  sweeter,  dearer  maiden  in  many 
ways.  She  has  been  trained  within  the  court- 
yards in  the  old-fashioned  customs  that  make 
for  simplicity  of  heart,  grace  of  manner,  that 


172  My    Lady    of    the 

give  obedience  and  respect  to  older  people;  and 
she  has  the  delicate  high-bred  ways  that  our 
girls  seem  to  feel  unnecessary  in  the  hurry  of 
these  days.  She  takes  me  back  to  years  gone 
by,  where  everything  is  like  a  dream,  and  I 
can  feel  again  the  chair  beneath  me  that  car- 
ried me  up  the  mountain-side  with  its  shadow- 
ing of  high  woods,  and  hear  the  song  of 
water  falling  gently  from  far-off  mountain 
brooks,  and  the  plaintive  cry  of  flutes  unseen, 
that  came  to  welcome  me  to  my  new  home. 

With  her  dainty  gowns,  her  tiny  shoes,  her 
smooth  black  hair,  she  is  a  breath  from  another 
world,  and  my  sons  and  daughters  regard  her 
as  if  she  were  a  stray  butterfly,  blown  hither 
by  some  wind  too  strong  for  her  slight  wings. 
She  is  as  graceful  as  the  slender  willow,  her 
youthful  charm  is  like  the  cherry-tree  in 
bloom,  and  the  sweet  thoughts  natural  to 
youth  and  the  springtime  of  life,  flow  from 
her  heart  as  pure  as  the  snow-white  blossoms 
of  the  plum-tree.  She  does  not  belong  to 
this,  our  modern  world;  she  should  be  bend- 
ing with  iris  grace  above  goldfish  in  the 
ponds,  or  straying  in  gardens  where  there 
are  lakes  of  shimmering  water  murmuring 
beneath  great  lotus  flowers  that  would  speak 
to  her  of  love. 


Chinese     Courtyard  173 

We  are  all  more  than  charmed,  and  gather 
to  the  sunshine  she  has  brought.  As  they 
knelt  before  us  for  our  blessing,  I  thought 
what  a  happy  thing  is  youth  and  love. 
"Kings  in  their  palaces  grow  old,  but  youth 
dwells  forever  at  contentment's  side." 

But  I  must  tell  thee  of  the  marriage. 
Instead  of  the  red  chair  of  marriage,  my  new 
daughter-in-law  was  brought  from  the  house 
of  her  uncle  in  that  most  modern  thing,  a 
motor-car.  I  insisted  that  it  should  be  cov- 
ered with  red  satin,  the  colour  of  rejoicing; 
and  great  rosettes  trailed  from  the  corners  to 
the  ground.  The  feasting  was  elaborate  and 
caused  me  much  care  in  its  preparation,  as 
not  only  had  been  provided  the  many  different 
kinds  of  food  for  our  Chinese  friends,  but  for- 
eigners, who  came  also,  were  served  with  dishes 
made  expressly  for  them,  and  with  foreign 
wines,  of  which  they  took  most  liberally. 
The  Europeans,  men  and  women,  ate  and  drank 
together  with  a  freedom  that  to  me  is  most 
unseemly,  and  I  cannot  understand  the  men 
who  have  no  pride  in  their  women's  modesty 
but  allow  them  to  sit  at  table  with  strange 
men  close  by  their  side.  Behind  the  archway, 
we  Chinese  women  "of  the  old  school,"  as 
my  daughter  calls  us,  feasted  and  laughed  our 


174  My    Lady    of    the 

fill,  just  as  happy  as  if  parading  our  new  gowns 
before  the  eyes  of  stranger-men. 

Li-ti  is  delighted  with  thy  gift,  the  chain  of 
pearls.  It  is  a  most  appropriate  present,  for 
"pearls  belong  of  right  to  her  whose  soul 
reflects  the  colour  of  youth's  purity";  and  I, 
I  am  so  happy  in  this  new  life  that  has  come 
to  dwell  beneath  our  rooftree.  I  had  many 
fears  that  she  would  not  be  to  my  liking,  that 
she  would  be  a  modern  Chinese  woman;  and 
another  one,  oh,  Mother  mine,  would  fill  to 
overflowing  my  bowl  of  small  vexations; 
but  the  place  is  perfumed  by  her  scent,  the 
scent  of  sandalwood,  which  represents  the 
China  that  I  love,  and  flowers  of  jessamine 
and  purple  hyacinths  and  lilies-of-the-valley, 
which  speak  to  us  of  youth  and  spring  and 
love  and  hope. 

Thy  daughter,  who  gives  the  messages  from 
all  thy  family,  who  touch  thy  hand  with  deep 
respect. 


Chinese     Courtyard  175 


XII 

My  Dear  Mother, 

I  am  sorry  that  thou  hast  been  troubled  by 
news  of  the  fighting  within  the  province.  All 
is  well  with  us,  as  we  sent  thee  word  by 
telegraph.  If  anything  happens  that  touches 
any  of  thy  household,  we  will  send  thee  word 
at  once. 

This  town  is  a  hotbed  of  rebellion,  and  it  is 
all  because  the  rebels  have  been  enabled  to 
perfect  their  plans  through  the  existence  of 
the  foreign  settlements.  How  I  dislike  these 
foreigner  adventurers!  I  wish  they  would 
take  their  gilded  dust,  their  yellow  gold,  and 
leave  us  to  our  peace;  but  they  walk  our 
streets  as  lords  and  masters,  and  allow  the 
plotting  traitors  to  make  their  plans,  and  we 
are  helpless.  If  I  were  China's  ruler  and  for 
one  day  had  power,  there  would  not  be  one 
white  man  left  within  the  borders  of  my 
country.  We  hear  each  day  of  friends  who 
give  their  lives  on  the  field  of  battle,  these  bat- 
tles and  this  conflict  which  would  not  be 
present  with  us  were  it  not  for  the  foreign 


176  My    lady    of    the 

powers,  who  within  these  settlements,  protect 
the  low-browed  ruffians  who  are  plotting 
China's  ruin. 

Did  I  say  I  disliked  these  foreigners  ?  How 
mild  a  word !  Thou,  in  Sezchuan,  far  from  the 
touch  of  the  alien  life,  hast  never  seen  these 
people  who  cause  us  so  much  trouble.  How 
can  I  describe  them  to  thee  so  that  thou  wilt 
understand  ?  They  are  like  unto  the  dragons 
of  the  earth,  for  ugliness.  Men  have  enor- 
mous stature  and  mighty  strength,  and  stride 
with  fierce  and  lordly  steps.  Their  faces  have 
great  noses  between  deep-set  eyes,  and  pro- 
truding brows,  and  ponderous  jaws  like 
animals — symbols  of  brute  force  which  needs 
but  to  be  seen  to  frighten  children  in  the  dark. 
We  are  the  gentler  race,  and  we  feel  instinc- 
tively the  dominating  power  of  these  men  from 
over  the  seas,  who  all,  American,  Russian, 
German,  English,  seem  to  be  cast  in  the  same 
brutal  mould.  Their  women  have  long,  horse- 
like  faces,  showing  the  marks  of  passion  and 
discontent,  which  they  try  to  cover  with  the 
contents  of  the  powder- jar  and  with  rouge; 
they  are  utterly  unlike  the  women  of  our  race, 
who  are  taught  to  express  no  hate,  no  love, 
nor  anything  save  perfect  repose  and  gentle- 
ness, as  befits  true  ladyhood. 


Chinese    Courtyard  177 

One  has  but  to  see  a  Chinese  gentleman, 
with  his  easy  manners,  composed,  self-con- 
tained, with  a  natural  dignity,  to  know  that  we 
are  better  trained  than  the  people  from  the 
West.  It  is  because  we  are  true  idealists. 
We  show  it  in  our  grading  of  society.  With  us 
the  scholar  is  honoured  and  put  first,  the 
farmer  second,  the  artisan  third,  and  the  mer- 
chant and  the  soldier  last.  With  them,  these 
worshippers  of  the  dollar,  the  merchant  is  put 
first,  and  the  man  to  guard  that  dollar  is  made 
his  equal!  That  is  a  standard  for  a  nation! 
The  barterer  and  the  murderer;  let  others 
follow  where  they  lead. 

These  foreigners  rate  China  low,  who  have 
never  met  a  Chinese  gentleman,  never  read  a 
line  of  Chinese  literature,  and  who  look  at  you 
in  ignorance  if  you  mention  the  names  of  our 
sages.  They  see  no  Chinese  except  their 
servants,  and  they  judge  the  world  about  them 
from  that  low  point  of  view.  I  know  a  lady 
here  who  is  a  leader  in  their  society,  a  woman 
who  has  lived  within  our  land  for  many  tens 
of  years;  when  asked  to  meet  a  prince  of  our 
house  Imperial,  she  declined,  saying  she  never 
associated  with  Chinese.  A  prince  to  her 
was  no  more  than  any  other  yellow  man; 
she  said  she  would  as  soon  think  of  meeting 


178  My    Lady    of    the 

her  gate  coolie  at  a  social  tea.  How  can  there 
be  a  common  meeting-ground  between  our 
people  and  the  average  European,  of  whom 
this  woman  is  a  representative  and  who  is  not 
alone  in  her  estimation  of  the  people  amongst 
whom  she  lives  but  whom  she  never  sees. 
They  get  their  knowledge  of  China  from  ser- 
vants, from  missionaries  who  work  among  the 
lower  classes,  and  from  newspaper  reports 
that  are  always  to  the  disadvantage  of  our 
people. 

More  and  more  the  West  must  see  that  the 
East  and  West  may  meet  but  never  can  they 
mingle.  Foreigners  can  never  enter  our  inner 
chamber;  the  door  is  never  wholly  opened, 
the  curtain  never  drawn  aside  between  Chinese 
and  European.  The  foreign  man  is  a  materi- 
alist, a  mere  worshipper  of  things  seen.  With 
us  "the  taste  of  the  tea  is  not  so  important  as 
the  aroma."  When  Chinese  gentlemen  meet 
for  pleasure,  they  talk  of  poetry  and  the  wis- 
dom of  the  sages,  of  rare  jade  and  porcelains 
and  brass.  They  show  each  other  treasures, 
they  handle  with  loving  fingers  the  contents  of 
their  cherished  boxes,  and  search  for  stores  of 
beauty  that  are  brought  to  light  only  for 
those  who  understand.  But  when  with  for- 
eigners, the  talk  must  be  of  tea,  its  prices,  the 


[Page  172] 


pathway  up  the  mountain-side. 


Chinese     Courtyard  179 

weight  of  cotton  piece  goods,  the  local  gossip  of 
the  town  in  which  they  live.  Their  private 
lives  are  passed  within  a  world  apart,  and  there 
is  between  these  men  from  different  lands  a 
greater  bar  than  that  of  language — the  bar  of 
mutual  misunderstanding  and  lack  of  sympa- 
thy with  the  other  race. 

Poor  China!  She  is  first  clubbed  on  the 
head  and  then  stroked  on  the  back  by  these 
foreigners,  her  dear  friends.  Friends!  It  is 
only  when  the  cold  season  comes  that  we  know 
the  pine-tree  and  the  cypress  to  be  evergreens, 
and  friends  are  known  in  adversity.  The 
foreigners  who  profess  to  be  our  friends  are 
waiting  and  hoping  for  adversity  to  come  upon 
us,  that  they  may  profit  by  it.  They  want 
our  untouched  wealth,  our  mines  of  coal  and 
iron  and  gold,  and  it  is  upon  them  they  have 
cast  their  eyes  of  greed. 

The  foreigners  have  brought  dishonesty  in 
business  dealings  to  our  merchants.  At  first, 
the  trader  from  the  foreign  land  found  that  he 
could  rely  on  old-time  customs  and  the  word 
of  the  merchant  to  bind  a  bargain;  but  what 
did  the  Chinese  find?  There  are  no  old-time 
customs  to  bind  a  foreigner,  except  those  of 
bond  and  written  document.  He  has  no 
traditions  of  honour,  he  can  be  held  by  nothing 


180  My    Lady    of    the 

except  a  court  of  law.  For  years  the  word 
"China"  has  meant  to  the  adventurers  of 
other  lands  a  place  for  exploitation,  a  place 
where  silver  was  to  be  obtained  by  the  man 
with  fluent  tongue  and  winning  ways.  Even 
foreign  officials  did  not  scruple  to  use  their 
influence  to  enter  trade. 

An  old  case  has  recently  come  before  the 
Governor.  It  has  been  brought  many  times 
to  the  ears  of  the  officials,  but  they  have  said 
nothing,  for  fear  of  offending  the  Great  Gov- 
ernment whose  representative  is  involved  in 
the  not  too  pleasant  transaction.  One  of  our 
great  inland  cities  had  no  water  nearer  than 
the  river,  several  miles  away.  A  foreign 
official  with  a  machine  of  foreign  invention 
digged  deep  into  the  earth  and  found  pure, 
clear  water.  Then  he  thought,  "If  there  is 
water  here  for  me,  why  not  for  all  this  great 
city  of  many  tens  of  thousands?"  which  was 
a  worthy  thought,  and  he  saw  for  himself 
great  gains  in  bringing  to  the  doors  of  rich  and 
poor  alike  the  water  from  the  wells.  He  told 
the  Taotai  that  he  would  go  to  his  country 
and  bring  back  machines  that  would  make  the 
water  come  forth  as  from  living  springs.  The 
official  met  his  friends  and  the  plan  was  dis- 
cussed and  many  thousands  of  taels  were 


Chinese    Courtyard  181 

provided  and  given  into  the  hands  of  the 
official  from  over  the  seas.  The  friends  of  the 
Taotai  felt  no  fear  for  their  money,  as  the  offi- 
cial signed  a  contract  to  produce  water  from 
the  earth,  and  he  signed,  not  as  a  simple  citizen 
but  as  the  representative  of  his  government, 
with  the  great  seal  of  that  government 
attached  to  the  paper.  Of  course  our  simple 
people  thought  that  the  great  nation  was 
behind  the  project;  and  they  were  amazed  and 
startled  when,  after  a  trip  to  his  home  land 
and  a  return  with  only  one  machine,  a  few 
holes  were  made  but  no  water  found,  and  the 
official  announced  that  he  was  sorry  but  there 
was  nothing  more  that  he  could  do.  He  did 
not  offer  to  return  the  money,  and  in  his 
position  he  could  not  be  haled  into  a  court 
of  law;  there  was  nothing  for  his  dupes  to  do 
but  to  gaze  sadly  into  the  great  holes  that 
had  taken  so  much  money,  and  remember  that 
wisdom  comes  with  experience. 

"When  a  man  has  been  burned  once  with 
hot  soup  he  forever  after  blows  upon  cold 
rice";  so  these  same  men  of  China  will  think 
o'erlong  before  trusting  again  a  foreigner  with 
their  silver. 

Thy  son  has  been  trying  to  settle  another 
case.  Some  men  from  America  went  to 


182  My    ,Lady     of    the 

Ningpo,  and  talked  long  and  loud  of  the  dark- 
ness of  the  city,  its  streets  dangerous  in  the 
night-time,  its  continual  fires  caused  by  the 
flickering  lamps  of  oil  that  are  being  so  con- 
stantly overturned  by  the  many  children. 
They  told  the  officials  that  the  times  were 
changing,  that  to  walk  the  streets  with  a 
lighted  lantern  in  the  hand  is  to  lose  step 
with  the  march  of  progress.  They  showed  the 
benefits  of  the  large  lights  of  electricity  blazing 
like  a  sun  on  each  corner  of  the  great  city, 
making  it  impossible  for  robbers  and  evil- 
doers to  carry  on  their  work  in  darkness. 
They  promised  to  turn  night-time  into  day,  to 
put  white  lights  in  Yamen,  office,  and  house- 
hold. There  should  be  a  light  beneath  each 
rooftree,  at  no  greater  expense  than  the  bean- 
oil  lamp.  They  were  most  plausible,  and 
many  thousands  of  silver  dollars  were  brought 
forth  and  given  to  the  men  as  contract 
money.  They  left  us  to  buy  machinery;  the 
years  have  passed;  they  never  have  returned. 
Ningpo  still  has  streets  of  darkness,  men  still 
walk  abroad  with  lighted  lanterns,  the  bean-oil 
lamp  is  seen  within  the  cottage  and — will  be 
until  the  hills  shall  fade,  so  far  as  the  officials 
are  concerned,  who  once  dreamed  dreams  of  a 
city  lit  by  the  light  as  of  myriad  suns. 


Chinese     Courtyard  183 

How  can  the  missionaries  have  the  face  to 
come  here  with  their  religion,  when  the  dis- 
solute white  man  is  in  every  port  manifesting 
a  lust  and  greed  and  brutality  which  Chinese 
are  accustomed  to  associate  with  the  citizen- 
ship and  religion  attributed  to  Christianity. 
No  wonder  it  is  hard  for  them  to  make 
converts  among  the  people  who  have  busi- 
ness dealings  with  these  men  from  Christian 
nations. 

But  China  will  not  forever  bear  the  ill- 
treatment  of  men  from  Western  lands.  She 
is  awake  to  all  the  insults;  she  has  learned  in 
the  bitter  halls  of  experience.  She  sleeps  no 
longer;  she  will  rise  in  self-defense  and  fight 
aggression;  and  the  nations  who  have  misused 
her  must  remember  that  when  she  moves  it 
will  be  the  movement  of  a  mighty  people 
aroused  by  the  thought  of  their  great  wrongs. 
She  is  peaceful  and  long-suffering,  but  she  is 
different  from  the  old-time  China.  She  has 
now  a  national  spirit  that  has  been  brought 
about  by  better  means  of  communication 
between  provinces.  In  the  olden  time  it 
was  difficult  for  one  part  of  the  Empire  to 
know  the  conditions  in  another.  But  now  the 
telegraph  and  the  daily  newspaper  come  to 
all  the  smallest  villages.  I  am  sure  that  the 


184  My    Lady    of    the 

watchman  by  thy  outer  gate  reads  as  he 
guards  thy  household,  and  learns  in  far 
Sezchuan  what  has  happened  to-day  in  Peking, 
or  the  Southern  city  of  Canton,  and  the 
news  is  discussed  in  the  tea-shops  and  on 
corners  by  men  from  farm  and  shop  and  office. 

The  foreigners  are  mistaken  in  their  belief 
that  China  can  never  be  united.  She  has 
been  one  for  centuries,  in  beliefs,  in  morals,  in 
education,  and  in  religion,  and  now  she  will 
be  more  united  in  her  stand  against  the 
hated  white  man  who  covets  her  treasures. 
She  may  quarrel  with  her  brothers  within  her 
borders;  but  that  is  nothing  but  a  family 
feud,  and  in  time  of  danger  from  outside,  like 
all  families,  she  will  unite  to  fight  for  her 
own  until  the  last  red  lantern  fades  and  the 
morning  star  is  shining. 

Enough  of  politics  and  bitterness!  I  hear 
thy  son,  who  is  coming  for  his  evening  cup  of 
tea. 

Thy  daughter 

Kwei-li 


Chinese     Courtyard  185 


XIII 

My  Dear  Mother, 

The  times  here  are  very  bad;  people  are 
fleeing  from  the  inland  cities  and  coming  to 
Shanghai  by  the  thousands.  The  place  is 
crowded  to  suffocation. 

Wu  Ting-fang  was  here  and  talked  long  into 
the  night  with  my  husband.  My  son,  who, 
I  am  afraid,  does  not  think  too  highly  of  this 
great  man,  says  that  he  is  with  the  party  that 
is  "on  top,'*  that  he  spends  most  of  his  time 
sitting  on  the  fence — whatever  that  may 
mean.  I  drove  past  his  house  the  other  day 
and  did  not  see  him  sitting  on  the  fence,  but 
on  his  veranda,  calmly  drinking  tea. 

Sun  Yat-sen  has  violated  his  word  of  honour 
and  has  joined  the  Southern  forces.  We  feel 
he  has  acted  most  dishonourably  and  (my  son 
again)  should  have  "staid  bought."  Gossips 
say  he  received  many  millions  of  taels,  pre- 
sumably for  the  railroads,  but  that  was  only 
an  excuse  to  slip  the  money  into  his  wide  and 
hungry  pockets. 

It  is  decided  to  send  my  son  to  Canton,  into 


186  My    Lady    of    the 

the  office  of  the  governor  of  that  province. 
We  are  glad  to  get  him  away  from  Shanghai, 
which  is  a  nest  of  adders  and  vipers,  conspiring 
and  raising  their  poisonous  heads  in  the  dark. 
One  does  not  know  whom  to  trust,  or  who 
may  prove  to  be  a  traitor. 

Li-ti,  his  wife,  wishes  to  go  with  him,  and 
weeps  the  whole  day  through  because  we  will 
not  permit  it.  She  is  not  well,  and  we  tell  her 
she  will  not  be  really  separated  from  her  hus- 
band, because,  as  the  poets  tell  us,  people  who 
love,  though  at  a  distance  from  each  other,  are 
like  two  lutes  tuned  in  harmony  and  placed  in 
adjoining  rooms.  When  you  strike  the  kung 
note  on  one,  the  kung  note  on  the  other  will 
answer,  and  when  you  strike  the  cho  note 
on  the  one  the  cho  note  on  the  other  will  give 
the  same  sound.  They  are  both  tuned  to  the 
same  pitch,  when  the  influence  of  the  key- 
note, love,  is  present. 

I  took  my  son  apart  the  other  night  and 
said,  "I  am  thy  mother  and  I  want  to  speak 
words  to  thee  straight  from  the  heart.  Thou 
art  to  have  the  joy  of  work,  and  remember 
the  pride  of  work  lies  in  the  thought,  Tor 
me  alone  is  the  task.' '  I  tried  to  make  him 
understand  that  praise,  glory,  and  honours 
are  good,  but  they  do  not  make  for  long  life, 


Chinese    Courtyard  187 

and  especially  in  these  times  it  is  better  to 
work  quietly  without  attracting  too  much  at- 
tention. It  is  more  safe,  for  "he  who  raises 
himself  on  tiptoe  cannot  stand,  and  he  who 
stretches  his  legs  wide  apart  cannot  walk." 

His  father  was  especially  anxious  that  he  be 
not  pierced  with  the  arrow  of  treachery  that 
poisons  the  blood  and  finds  the  weak  spot  in 
the  armour  of  so  many  of  our  young  men.  He 
told  him  to  keep  himself  above  suspicion,  to 
avoid  those  entangled  in  the  nets  of  double 
dealing  of  whom  one  is  uncertain,  because 
"the  red  glow  of  the  morning  sun  seems  to 
stain  even  the  pure  whiteness  of  the  new- 
fallen  snow." 

Why,  Mother  mine,  didst  thou  send  the  old 
priest  from  the  temple  down  here?  He  abides 
in  the  courtyard,  squatting  on  his  heels,  serv- 
ing the  spirits  neither  of  Heaven  nor  of  earth, 
but  he  sits  and  talks  and  talks  and  talks 
with  the  women  of  the  courtyards.  There 
are  some  of  them  I  would  fain  send  to  a  far- 
off  province,  especially  Fang  Tai,  the  mother 
of  our  gateman. 

"A  woman  with  a  long  tongue  is  a  flight  of 
teps  leading  to  calamity."  ^/- 

This  priest  of  thine  has  been  quarrelling  with 
her  now  over  the  question  of  the  son  of  Wong 


188  My    Lady    of    the 

Tai,  who  is  accused  of  being  on  too  friendly 
terms  with  some  of  the  leaders  of  the  rebellion. 
He  made  the  unfortunate  remark  that  per- 
haps the  man  was  innocent  but  "one  does  not 
arrange  his  head-dress  under  an  apricot-tree, 
nor  his  foot-gear  in  a  melon  patch,  if  he  wishes 
to  be  above  suspicion,'*  and  this  simple  remark 
has  called  down  upon  his  priestly  head  the 
wrath  of  all  the  women.  I  think  he  will  go 
to  the  monastery  within  the  city  to  pass  the 
night — at  least  if  he  has  wisdom  equal  to  his 
years. 

Yesterday  I  thought  that  I  might  make  some 
use  of  him,  and  I  felt  when  he  was  working  he 
would  not  be  stirring  up  the  courtyards.  I 
bade  him  write  the  Sage's  words  upon  a  scroll 
of  satin  for  my  boy  to  take  with  him  to  his  new 
home,  He  did  it  very  beautifully,  as  he  is  a 
real  artist  with  the  brush.  This  is  the  reading 
of  the  scroll: 

"There  are  three  things  for  a  man  to  guard 

against: 

The  lusts  of  the  flesh  in  early  years, 
The  spirit  of  combativeness  in  middle-age, 
And  ambition  as  the  years  go  on. 

"There  are  three  things  to  command  your 

reverence : 

The  ordinances  of  Heaven, 
Great  men,  and  the  words  of  the  sages. 


Chinese     Courtyard  189 

"There  are  three  times  three  things  to  be 

remembered : 
To  be  clear  in  vision, 
Quick  in  hearing, 
Kindly  in  expression, 
Respectful  in  demeanour, 
True  in  word, 
Serious  in  duty, 
Inquiring  in  doubt, 
Self -controlled  in  anger, 
And  just  and  fair  when  the  chair  of  success 

is  before  your  door." 

I  made  a  roll  of  it  and  placed  it  upon  his 
desk,  and  when  he  opened  it  he  found  within 
another  scroll  of  silk,  the  same  in  colour,  size, 
and  finish,  written  by  his  most  unfilial  sisters, 
which  read: 

"Remember  that  thou  art  young. 
What  thou  dost  know  is  not  to  be  compared 
With  what  thou  dost  not  know." 

It  made  him  angry  at  first,  but  I  do  not 
know  but  that  the  shorter  scroll  contains  the 
greater  wisdom. 

I  am  anxious  for  this  boy  of  mine,  who  is 
starting  to  sail  his  ship  of  manhood  across 
the  Broad  River  of  Life  in  these  most  perilous 
times.  I  think  he  is  strong  enough  to  con- 


190  My    JLady    of    the 

quer  all,  but  I  have  lighted  candles  and  bought 
fine  incense  to  persuade  the  Gods  to  temper 
winds  to  untried  hands. 

Thy  daughter 

Kwei-li 


Chinese    Courtyard  191 


XIV 

My  Dear  Mother, 

I  have  not  written  thee  for  several  days. 
We  are  in  Nanking,  where  my  husband  is 
presiding  at  a  meeting  of  the  officials  in  order 
to  discuss  the  question  of  a  compromise,  or  to 
try  in  some  way  to  settle  the  questions  that  are 
causing  this  dreadful  rebellion,  without  more 
loss  of  life.  He  is  also  acting  as  judge  in  the 
case  of  some  of  the  men  who  have  been  caught 
pillaging  and  destroying  the  homes  of  the  inno- 
cent people.  It  is  hard  for  him  to  act  with 
strict  justice,  remembering  the  many  friends 
he  has  lost,  and  it  is  necessary  to  see  things 
without  their  individuality  in  order  to  be  wise 
in  all  judgments.  I  came,  ostensibly  to  see  the 
friends  of  my  childhood,  but  really  to  take 
care  of  thy  son  and  see  that  he  eats  with  regu- 
larity and  takes  his  rest.  He  is  working  far 
too  hard.  He  gives  himself  to  whatever  task 
arrives,  greedy  for  the  work,  like  one  who  lusts 
in  the  delight  of  seeing  tasks  accomplished. 
But  he  is  trusted  by  all,  both  sides  agreeing  to 
rest  on  his  decisions,  all  realising  that  personal 


192  My    Lady     of    the 

feeling  is  put  far  into  the  background  of  his 
mind  when  the  interests  of  new  China  are  at 
stake. 

We  are  in  the  Yamen  where  I  lived  as  a 
young  girl,  but  now  all  is  changed.  Instead 
of  the  old  guard  of  honour,  with  their  great 
flapping  hats,  their  gaily  decorated  jackets, 
baggy  trousers  tucked  into  velvet  boots,  pen- 
nants flying  from  their  spear-points  as  their 
small  ponies  dashed  madly  in  front  of  the 
official  carriage,  we  were  met  by  a  body  of 
foreign-dressed  soldiers  who  conducted  us  with 
military  precision  quite  different  from  the  old- 
time  dash  and  lack  of  discipline. 

Inside  the  Yamen.,  also,  things  are  different. 
Everything  is  orderly  and  moves  with  a  ma- 
chine-like regularity  that  seems  totally  foreign 
to  an  Eastern  official's  residence.  There  is  not 
the  democracy  of  other  days;  the  man  from 
the  street,  the  merchant  or  the  coolie  with  his 
burden  on  his  shoulders,  did  not  follow  us  into 
the  courtyards  to  see  what  was  being  done,  nor 
were  there  crowds  of  idle  men  gazing  with  mild 
curiosity  at  the  visitors  to  their  city. 

We  hear  much  of  the  old-time  power  of  the 
officials;  but  things  are  not  nearly  so  demo- 
cratic under  this  new  government  as  in  for- 
mer times,  when,  it  is  true,  the  governor  had 


Chinese     Courtyard  193 

power  of  life  and  death,  but  still  was  obliged 
to  deal  leniently  with  his  people.  A  little 
larger  demand  for  tribute,  a  case  of  rank 
injustice,  and  he  became  the  object  of  the 
people's  wrath  and  would  quite  likely  see  his 
Yamen  in  a  blaze,  or  pay  with  his  life  for  his 
greed.  The  masses  held  real  power  within 
their  hands.  If  their  officials  did  not  deal 
justly  with  them,  they  caused  a  riot,  and  if  the 
frightened  official  could  not  still  it  within  a 
certain  time,  he  was  told  that  he  evidently 
could  not  control  his  people  and  so  was 
removed. 

My  husband  inspected  the  regiments  sta- 
tioned here.  I  saw  them  from  a  veranda  in 
the  Yamen  where  we  women  were  unseen. 
Fifteen  thousand  men  marched  past  him; 
and  they  were  a  sight  for  one  who  loves  his 
country.  They  were  all  young  men,  no  one 
seeming  to  be  over  twenty-five,  and  as  they 
marched  my  heart  was  filled  with  pride  and 
hope  in  them.  I  thought,  it  is  of  just  such 
men,  such  sons  of  peasants  and  working  peo- 
ple, that  Japan  made  her  army  that  gained  a 
victory  over  one  of  the  greatest  nations  in  the 
Western  world.  Why  cannot  we,  with  our 
unlimited  numbers,  make  an  army  that  will 
cause  our  country  to  be  respected  and  take  its 


194  My    Lady    of    the 

place  among  the  powers  of  the  world?  We 
have  the  men,  myriads  and  myriads  of  them; 
men  who  are  used  to  hardship  and  privation 
in  their  daily  life,  who,  on  a  bowl  of  rice,  a 
morsel  of  dried  fish,  can  fight  the  whole  day 
through.  Our  men  are  not  accustomed  to  the 
luxuries  of  the  foreigners,  who,  even  in  times  of 
war,  carry  great  stores  of  what  seems  to  East- 
ern nations,  unnecessary  baggage.  With  them 
their  endless  string  of  wagons  is  their  greatest 
pitfall,  and  with  us  these  latter  could  be  re- 
duced to  the  smallest  count. 

Yet  we  hear  on  every  hand  that  the  courage 
of  the  Chinese  soldier  is  held  at  low  value. 
But  why  ?  When  sent  unarmed,  or  with  guns 
for  which  there  were  no  bullets,  into  the  Jap- 
anese war,  against  troops  with  the  latest 
inventions  in  weapons  to  kill,  the  only  thing 
to  be  done  was  to  retreat.  But  when  they  are 
paid,  fed,  and  armed,  and  have  leaders  who 
will  go  to  the  front  with  them,  instead  of 
saying,  "There  is  the  enemy.  Charge!  I  will 
go  back  to  the  hills  and  await  your  hour  of 
glory,"  they  are  found  to  be  courageous  to  the 
verge  of  fanaticism.  Under  trusted  leaders 
there  is  no  forlorn  hope  or  desperate  service 
for  which  they  would  not  volunteer.  Let 
them  have  confidence  in  their  new  generals, 


Chinese    Courtyard  195 

and,  even  though  not  understanding  the 
cause,  they  will  make  the  best  soldiers  in  the 
world. 

But  I  must  not  talk  to  thee  of  war;  we 
want  not  more  bloodshed  and  the  fatherless 
homes  and  lean  years  that  follow  in  the  track 
of  great  armies.  Yet,  if  we  cannot  be  without 
it,  let  it  serve  war's  ends — the  ultimate  safety 
of  our  people,  and  bring  them  peace  and  tran- 
quillity, their  heart's  desire. 

I  visited  the  ruined  homes  of  friends  of  mine, 
who  are  no  more.  It  made  me  feel  that  life 
is  nothing  but  a  mirage,  a  phantom,  or  as 
foam,  and  "even  as  all  earthly  vessels  made  on 
the  potter's  wheel  must  end  by  being  broken, 
so  end  the  lives  of  men."  I  went  out  to  the 
home  of  YuanTai-tai,  who,  to  my  childish  mind 
was  the  great  lady  of  my  dreams.  I  can  close 
my  eyes  and  see  her  still,  like  a  brilliant  butter- 
fly, dressed  in  her  gay  brocades,  her  hair 
twined  with  jewels  of  pearl  and  jade;  with 
hand  in  mine  she  wandered  o'er  her  garden, 
bending  over  goldfish  ponds,  or  clipping 
fading  flowers  from  off  their  stems.  There 
reigned  a  heavy  silence  in  her  palace,  with  its 
memories,  that  seemed  full  of  sadness  and  a 
vague  regret,  reminding  me  of  an  old  blue 
China  bowl  which  a  hand  of  other  days  had 


196 


filled  with  roses.  The  flowers  trying  to  strug- 
gle from  beneath  the  thorns  and  brambles  that 
always  come  where  troops  are  quartered, 
seemed  to  say,  "Behold,  they  are  not  here  who 
once  have  cared  for  us  and  cherished  us,  but 
the  gardens  breathe  of  them  and  we  are 
fragrant  for  their  sakes."  I  picked  a  branch 
of  cherry-blossoms,  and  swiftly  fell  the  per- 
fumed petals  to  the  ground — symbols  of  the 
dainty  lives  that  bloomed  so  short  a  time  in 
this  fair  garden  of  my  lady.  Liu  Che,  the 
poet  of  the  olden  time,  seems  to  have  been 
speaking  of  this,  my  friend,  when  he  says: 

"The  sound  of  rustling  silk  is  stilled, 
With  dust  the  marble  courtyard  filled; 
No  footfalls  echo  on  the  floor, 

Fallen  leaves  in  heaps  block  up  the  door 

For  she,  my  pride,  my  lovely  one  is  lost." 

We  went  from  Yuan's  palace  to  the  Tem- 
ple of  Kwan-yin,  which  I  often  visited  as  a 
child.  It  also  was  a  ruin,  but  it  spoke  to  me 
of  the  dead  thousands  of  weary  feet  that  had 
climbed  the  steps  leading  to  its  shrines;  of 
the  buried  mothers  who  touched  the  floor 
before  its  altars  with  reverent  heads  and  asked 
blessings  on  their  children's  lives;  of  their 
children,  taught  to  murmur  prayers  to  the 
Mother  of  all  Mercies,  who  held  close  within 


Is 

§ 

u 


as  ? 

E^ 


~f/f/rE  could  see  the  river,  a  gleaming  thread  of  silver, 

and   the   hillsides,   tree   clad,  flower  wreathed, 

painted  with  the  colours  that  the  Gods  give  to  the  spring. 


[  Page  197  ] 


Chinese     Courtyard  197 

her  loving  heart  the  sorrows,  hopes,  and  fears 
of  woman's  world.  Ghosts  of  these  spirits 
seemed  to  follow  as  we  wandered  through 
deserted  courtyards,  and  an  odour  as  of  old 
incense  perfumed  the  air.  I  went  out  and 
stood  upon  the  tortoise  that  is  left  to  guard 
the  ruined  temple;  the  great  stone  tortoise 
that  is  the  symbol  of  longevity  of  our  coun- 
try, that  even  armies  in  their  wrath  cannot 
destroy. 

From  the  gateway  we  could  see  the  river, 
a  gleaming  thread  of  silver,  and  the  hillsides, 
tree  clad,  flower  wreathed,  painted  with  the 
colours  that  the  Gods  give  to  the  spring — the 
spring  that  "thrills  the  warm  blood  into 
wine."  But  I  miss  the  natural  songs  that 
should  float  upward  from  the  valley,  and 
down  the  reed-strewn  banks  of  the  canals, 
where  labourers  in  olden  days  were  happy  in 
their  toil. 

Even  as  we  left  the  place  the  pattering  rain- 
drops came  as  rice  grains  falling  upon  the 
threshing-floor,  and  the  hills  seemed  "folding 
veils  of  sorrow  round  their  brows."  It  was 
brought  to  our  remembrance  that  we  must 
return  to  a  city  where  war  and  famine  may 
come  thundering  at  her  gates,  and  we  must 
stand  with  helpless  hands. 


198  My    Lady    of    the 

Dear  Mother  mine,  stay  upon  thy  flower- 
scented  balustrade,  and  drink  great  draughts 
of  that  wine  of  spring,  the  vintage  of  the  wise, 
that  the  Gods  give  to  thee  freely  in  thy  moun- 
tain home,  and  leave  to  younger  hands  the 
battles  with  the  world.  Thou  must  not  come; 
write  no  more  that  thou  wouldst  be  amongst 
us.  We  love  thee  dearly,  but  we  would  cher- 
ish thee  and  keep  thee  from  all  care. 

Kwei-li 


Chinese     Courtyard  199 


XV 

My  Dear  Mother 9 

I  have  had  a  most  interesting  day,  and  I 
hasten  to  tell  thee  all  about  it.  I  have  just 
returned  from  opening  a  home  for  motherless 
children,  given  by  a  mission  of  a  foreign  land. 
It  is  a  beautiful  thought,  and  a  kindly  one,  to 
give  a  home  to  these  poor  waifs  of  an  alien 
land,  all  in  the  name  of  their  Saviour  of  the 
World.  I  saw  for  the  first  .time  a  picture  of 
this  Christ,  with  little  children  around  Him. 
The  message  I  read  within  His  eyes  seemed 
to  be:  "I  will  be  father  and  mother,  father 
and  mother  and  playmate  to  all  little  child- 
ren." The  words  of  the  Japanese  poet  de- 
scribe Him:  "He  was  caressing  them  kindly, 
folding  His  shining  robes  round  them;  lifting 
the  smallest  and  frailest  into  His  bosom, 
and  holding  His  staff  for  the  tumblers  to 
clutch.  To  His  long  gown  clung  the  infants, 
smiling  in  response  to  His  smile,  glad  in  His 
beauteous  compassion." 

I  looked  at  the  picture  and  at  the  people 
around  me  on  the  platform,  and  wondered  why 


200  My    lady    of    the 

in  all  the  Christian  world  that  claims  this  lov- 
ing Master  there  should  be  such  exceeding  bit- 
terness between  His  followers.  How  can  they 
expect  us  to  believe  in  this  great  Teacher  when 
they  themselves  are  doubtful  of  his  message, 
and  criticise  quite  openly  their  Holy  Book?  If 
it  is  true,  should  education  and  science  make 
its  teaching  less  authentic  ?  We  do  not  want  a 
religion  that  is  uncertain  to  its  own  people, 
yet  we  take  with  many  thanks  what  it  can 
give  us,  the  things  we  understand,  such  as 
their  schools  and  hospitals.  Where  there  is 
pain  or  ignorance,  there  is  no  distinction  in 
the  God  that  brings  relief.  We  may  not 
believe  in  the  doctrines  that  we  are  taught  in 
the  waiting-rooms  of  their  hospitals,  but  we 
do  believe  in  the  healing  power  of  the  medi- 
cines that  are  brought  by  religious  zeal  from 
over  the  seas. 

If  their  teaching  has  not  as  yet  made  many 
converts,  the  effect  has  been  great  in  the 
spread  of  higher  ideals  of  education,  and 
much  of  the  credit  for  the  progress  of  our 
modern  life  must  be  given  to  the  mission 
schools,  which,  directly  or  indirectly,  have 
opened  new  pathways  in  the  field  of  education 
for  our  country,  and  caused  the  youth  of 
China  to  demand  a  higher  learning  throughout 


Chinese     Courtyard  201 

the  land.  This  aggressive  religion  from  the 
West,  coupled  with  the  education  that  seems 
to  go  hand  in  hand  with  it,  is  bound  to  raise 
the  religious  plane  of  China  by  forcing  our 
dying  faiths  to  reassume  higher  and  higher 
forms  in  order  to  survive. 

But  I  believe  that  these  teachers  from  the 
foreign  lands  should  understand  better  the 
religions  they  are  so  anxious  to  displace,  and 
instead  of  always  looking  for  the  point  of 
difference  or  weakness  in  our  faith,  should 
search  more  anxiously  for  the  common  ground, 
the  spark  of  the  true  light  that  may  still  be 
blown  to  flame,  finding  the  altar  that  may  be 
dedicated  afresh  to  the  true  God. 

Every  religion,  however  imperfect,  has 
something  that  ought  to  be  held  sacred,  for 
there  is  in  all  religions  a  secret  yearning  after 
the  unknown  God.  This  thought  of  God 
"is  an  elixir  made  to  destroy  death  in  the 
world,  an  unfailing  treasure  to  relieve  the 
poverty  of  mankind,  a  balm  to  allay  his  sick- 
ness, a  tree  under  which  may  rest  all  crea- 
tures wearied  with  wanderings  over  life's 
pathways.  It  is  a  bridge  for  passing  over 
hard  ways,  open  to  all  wayfarers,  a  moon 
of  thought  -arising  to  cool  the  fever  of  the 
world's  sin,  and  whatever  name  His  followers 


202  My    Lady    of    the 

may  call  Him,  lie  is  the  one  True  God  of  all 
mankind." 

Whether  we  see  the  coolie  bowing  his  head 
before  the  image  of  the  Lord  of  Light,  the 
Buddha,  or  the  peasant  woman  with  her  paper 
money  alight  in  the  brazier  at  the  feet  of 
Kwan-yin,  we  ought  to  feel  that  the  place 
where  he  who  worships  stands,  is  holy  ground. 
We  hear  it  said  that  he  is  worshipping  an 
image,  an  idol,  a  thing  of  stone  or  wood  or 
clay.  It  is  not  so;  he  is  thinking  far  beyond 
the  statue,  he  is  seeing  God.  He  looks 
upwards  towards  the  sky  and  asks  what 
supports  that  cup  of  blue.  He  hears  the  winds 
and  asks  them  whence  they  come  and  where 
they  go.  He  rises  for  his  toil  at  break  of  day 
and  sees  the  morning  sun  start  on  his  golden 
journey.  And  Him  who  is  the  cause  of  all 
these  wonders,  he  calls  his  Life,  his  Breath, 
his  Lord  of  All.  He  does  not  believe  that  the 
idol  is  his  God.  "Tis  to  the  light  which 
Thy  splendour  lends  to  the  idol's  face,  that  the 
worshipper  bends." 

The  difference  between  us  all  lies  not  in 
the  real  teaching  of  our  Holy  Men,  Con- 
fucius, Buddha,  Lao  Tze,  or  Christ,  but  in 
the  narrowness  of  the  structure  which  their 
followers  have  built  upon  their  words.  Those 


Chinese     C  ourtyard  203 

sages  reared  a  broad  foundation  on  which 
might  have  been  built,  stone  by  stone,  a 
mighty  pagoda  reaching  to  the  skies.  There 
could  have  been  separate  rooms,  but  no 
closed  doors,  and  from  out  the  pointed  roofs 
might  have  pealed  the  deep-toned  bells  caught 
by  every  wandering  breeze  to  tell  the  world 
that  here  spoke  the  Truth  of  the  One  Great 
God.  But,  instead,  what  have  they  done? 
The  followers  have  each  built  separately  over 
that  portion  wrhich  was  the  work  of  their  own 
Master.  The  stories  have  grown  narrower 
and  narrower  with  the  years;  each  bell  rings 
out  with  its  own  peculiar  tone,  and  there  is 
no  accord  or  harmony. 

I  do  not  dispute  with  those  who  have  found 
a  healing  for  themselves.  To  us  our  religion 
is  something  quite  inseparable  from,  ourselves, 
something  that  cannot  be  compared  with  any- 
thing else,  or  replaced  with  anything  else.  It 
is  like  our  bodies.  In  its  form  it  may  be  like 
other  bodies,  but  in  its  relation  to  ourselves  it 
stands  alone  and  admits  of  no  rival;  yet  the 
remedy  that  has  cured  us  should  not  be  forced 
upon  a  people,  irrespective  of  their  place,  their 
environment  or  their  temperament. 

We  of  the  East  "have  sounded  depth  on 
depth  only  to  find  still  deeper  depths  un- 


204  My    Lady    of    the 

fathomed  and  profound,"  and  we  have  learned 
to  say  that  no  sect  or  religion  can  claim  to  be 
in  possession  of  all  the  Truth.  Let  the  teach- 
ers from  other  countries  learn  of  our  doc- 
trines. Let  them  learn  of  Buddha.  To  one 
who  reads  his  pure  teaching,  nothing  so  beau- 
tiful, nothing  so  high,  has  been  heard  in  all  the 
world.  We  admit  that,  little  by  little,  changes 
have  come,  simplicity  has  been  lost,  and  with 
every  addition  something  departed  from  its 
purity  and  it  became  stained.  Yet  I  believe 
that  much  of  the  kindliness,  much  of  the  gen- 
tleness now  so  marked  in  Chinese  nature,  may 
be  traced  to  the  teaching  of  this  great  apostle 
of  peace  and  quietude. 

That  other  great  religion,  the  religion  of  the 
Way,  has  become  steeped  in  superstition 
and  has  been  made  a  reproach  in  all  our  land. 
Yet  Lao  Tze  had  noble  sentiments  and  lofty 
thoughts  that  have  helped  generations  of 
mankind  in  many  struggles. 

Confucius,  it  is  said,  presented  high  ideals 
without  the  breath  of  spirit;  his  system  was 
for  the  head  and  did  not  feed  the  .heart;  yet 
he  taught  that,  from  the  highest  imthe  land  to 
the  lowest  worker  in  the  field,  personal  virtue, 
cleanness  of  heart  and  hands,  is  to  be  held  the 
thing  of  greatest  value.  Men  are  urged  to 


Chinese     Courtyard  205 

cherish  all  that  is  of  good  in  them,  to  avoid  evil 
living,  to  cultivate  right  feeling,  and  to  be 
true  and  faithful  to  their  tasks. 

We  should  not  value  the  teaching  of  our 
religion  "as  a  miser  values  his  pearls  and  jade, 
thinking  their  value  lessened  if  pearls  and 
jade  are  found  in  other  parts  of  the  world." 
But  the  searcher  after  Truth  will  welcome  any 
true  doctrine,  and  believe  it  no  less  precious 
because  it  was  spoken  by  Buddha,  Lao  Tze, 
Confucius  or  Christ.  We  should  not  peer  too 
closely  to  learn  what  the  temple  may  enshrine, 
but  "feel  the  influence  of  things  Divine  and 
pray,  because  by  winding  paths  we  all  may 
reach  the  same  great  Ocean's  shore."  We  all 
are  searchers  for  the  Way.  Whence  do  I 
come;  where  do  I  go?  In  this  passage  from 
the  unknown  to  the  unknown,  this  pilgrimage 
of  life,  which  is  the  straight  path,  which  the 
true  road — if  indeed  there  be  a  Way?  Such 
are  the  questions  that  all  the  world  is  asking. 
What  is  the  true  answer;  where  may  we 
find  it?  Whose  holy  book  holds  the  key  that 
will  open  wide  the  door? 

All  have  a  hunger  of  the  soul  for  something 
beside  life's  meat  and  drink ;  all  want  a  remedy 
for  the  sorrows  of  the  world.  The  Buddhists 
believe  that  it  can  be  found  in  the  destruction 


206  My    Lady    of    the 

of  desire,  by  renouncing  the  world  and  follow- 
ing the  noble  path  of  peace  until  death  shall 
open  the  portals  of  the  unknowable,  everlast- 
ing stillness  from  which  there  is  no  return. 
The  Confucianists  say  the  remedy  is  found 
within  the  world  by  fulfilling  all  its  duties  and 
leaving  to  a  greater  Justice  the  future  and  its 
rewards.  The  Christians  give  a  whispered 
message  of  hope  to  the  lonely  soul  beating 
against  the  bars  of  the  world  about  him,  and 
say  that  a  life  of  love  and  joy  and  peace  is  the 
gift  of  their  great  Messenger,  and  when  the 
years  have  passed  that  He  stands  within  an 
archway  to  welcome  those,  His  chosen,  to  a 
land  of  bliss  where  we  shall  meet  all  who 
have  loved  us  and  whom  we  have  loved  in 
life,  and  gaze  upon  His  face. 

Which  is  the  Way,  which  path  to  God  is 
broad  enough  for  all  the  world  ? 

Kwei-li 


(Page  202) 


is  thinking  far  beyond  the  statue,  he  is 
seeing  God. 


Chinese     Courtyard  207 


XVI 

My  Dear  Mother, 

I  received  thy  letter  which  was  full  of 
reproaches  most  unjust.  I  have  not  broken 
my  word,  given  to  thee  so  long  ago.  I  opened 
the  home  for  friendless  children,  not  because  it 
belonged  to  a  mission  of  a  foreign  religion, 
but  because  I  think  it  a  most  worthy  cause. 

There  are  many  homeless  little  ones  in  this 
great  city,  and  these  people  give  them  food  and 
clothing  and  loving  care,  and  because  it  is 
given  in  the  name  of  a  God  not  found  within 
our  temples,  is  that  a  reason  for  withholding 
our  encouragement? 

Thou  hast  made  my  heart  most  heavy. 
Twenty-five  years  ago,  when  my  first-born  son 
was  taken  from  me,  I  turned  from  Gods  who 
gave  no  comfort  in  my  time  of  need:  all  alone 
with  hungry  winds  of  bitterness  gnawing  the 
lute  strings  of  my  desolate  mother-heart,  I 
stood  upon  my  terrace  and  fought  despair. 
My  days  were  without  hope  and  my  nights 
were  long  hours  filled  with  sorrow,  when  sleep 
went  trailing  softly  by  and  left  me  to  the  old 


208  My    Lady     of    the 

dull  pain  of  memory.  I  called  in  anguish  upon 
Kwan-yin,  and  she  did  not  hear  my  prayer. 
The  painted  smile  upon  her  lips  but  mocked 
me,  and  in  despair  I  said,  "There  are  no 
Gods,"  and  in  my  lonely  court  of  silent  dreams 
I  lost  the  thread  of  worldly  care  until  my  tiny 
bark  of  life  was  nearly  drifting  out  upon  the 
unknown  sea. 

Thou  rememberest  that  the  servants  brought 
to  me  from  out  the  market-place  the  book  of 
the  foreign  God,  and  in  its  pages  I  woke  to  life 
again.  I  looked  once  more  from  out  my 
curtained  window,  and  saw  the  rosy  glow  of 
dawn  instead  of  grey,  wan  twilights  of  the 
hopeless  days  before  me;  and,  as  on  a  bridge 
half  seen  in  shadows  dim,  I  returned  to  the 
living  world  about  me.  Thou  saidst  nothing 
until  it  had  brought  its  healing,  then  thou 
tookest  the  book  and  kept  it  from  me.  Thou 
toldst  me  with  tears  that  it  would  bring 
thine  head  in  sorrow  to  thy  resting-place  upon 
the  hillside  if  I  left  the  Gods  of  my  ancestors 
and  took  unto  my  heart  the  words  and  teach- 
ings of  the  God  of  an  alien  race.  I  promised 
thee  that  I  would  not  cause  thee  grief,  and  I 
have  kept  my  word. 

In  my  ignorance  I  have  longed  for  knowl- 
edge, for  some  one  to  explain  the  teaching  that 


Chinese     Courtyard  209 

rolled  away  for  me  the  rush  of  troubled  waters 
that  flooded  all  my  soul;  but  as  I  looked 
about  me  and  saw  the  many  warring  factions 
that  follow  the  great  Teacher  of  love  and 
peace,  I  did  not  know  which  way  to  turn, 
which  had  the  truth  to  give  me;  and  I  wanted 
all,  not  part.  I  have  this  book,  and  have  not 
sought  for  wisdom  from  outside,  but  only 
search  its  pages  to  find  its  messages  to  me. 

Thou  must  not  say  I  have  deserted  China's 
Gods,  nor  is  it  just  to  write  that  my  children 
are  wandering  from  the  Way.  I  have  ob- 
served the  feasts  and  fastings;  each  morn  the 
Household  God  has  rice  and  tea  before  him; 
the  Kitchen  God  has  gone  with  celebrations 
at  springtime  to  the  spirit  up  above.  The 
candles  have  been  lighted  and  the  smoke  of 
incense  has  ascended  to  propitiate  the  God  of 
Light,  Lord  Buddha,  and  Kwan-yin,  and  my 
children  have  been  taught  their  prayers  and 
holy  precepts.  It  is  not  my  fault,  nor  shouldst 
thou  blame  it  to  my  teaching  if  rites  and  sym- 
bols have  lost  their  meaning,  and  if  the  Gods 
of  China  are  no  longer  strong  enough  to  hold 
our  young. 

Oh,  Mother  mine,  thou  knowest  I  would  not 
cause  thee  sorrow,  and  thou  hast  hurt  me 
sorely  with  thy  letter  of  bitterness  and 


210  My    Lady    of    the 

reproach.  If  thou  couldst  have  seen  within 
my  heart  these  many  years,  and  known  the 
longing  for  this  light  that  came  to  me  in  dark- 
ness, then  thou  wouldst  not  have  burned  the 
book  that  brought  me  hope  and  life  again 
when  all  seemed  gone. 

Thou  askest  me  to  promise  thee  anew  that 
I  will  not  trouble  thy  last  few  years  with 
thoughts  that  seem  to  thee  a  sacrilege  and  a 
desecration  of  thy  Gods.  Thou  art  the 
mother  of  my  husband,  and  'tis  to  thee  I  owe 
all  loyalty  and  obedience.  I  promise  thee, 
but — that  which  is  deep  within  my  heart — 
is  mine. 

Thy  daughter 

Kwei-li 


Chinese     Courtyard 


XVII 

My  Dear  Mother, 

I,  thy  son's  wife,  have  been  guilty  of  the  sin 
of  anger,  one  of  the  seven  deadly  sins — and 
great  indeed  has  been  my  anger.  Ting-fang 
has  been  bringing  home  with  him  lately  the 
son  of  Wong  Kai-kia,  a  young  man  who  has 
been  educated  abroad,  I  think  in  Germany.  I 
have  never  liked  him,  have  looked  upon  his 
aping  of  the  foreign  manners,  his  half-long 
hair  which  looks  as  if  he  had  started  again  a 
queue  and  then  stopped,  his  stream  of  words 
without  beginning  and  without  end,  as  a 
foolish  boy's  small  vanities  that  would  pass  as 
the  years  and  wisdom  came.  But  now — how 
can  I  tell  thee — he  asks  to  have  my  daughter 
as  his  wife,  my  Luh-meh,  my  flower.  If  he 
had  asked  for  Man-li,  who  wishes  to  become 
a  doctor,  I  might  have  restrained  my  anger; 
but,  no,  he  wants  the  beauty  of  our  house- 
hold, and  for  full  a  space  of  ten  breaths' 
breathing-time,  I  withheld  my  indignation, 
for  I  was  speechless.  Then  I  fear  I  talked, 
and  only  stopped  for  lack  of  words.  My  son 


My    Lady     of    the 


is  most  indignant,  and  says  I  have  insulted 
his  dear  friend.  His  dear  friend  indeed  !  He 
is  so  veiled  in  self-conceit  that  he  can  be 
insulted  by  no  one;  and  as  for  being  a 
friend,  he  does  not  know  the  word  unless  he 
sees  in  it  something  to  further  his  own 
particular  interests. 

I  told  my  son  that  he  is  a  man  who  leads  a 
life  of  idleness  and  worse.  The  tea-house 
knows  him  better  than  his  rooftree.  He  is 
most  learned  and  has  passed  safely  many 
examinations,  and  writes  letters  at  the  end  of 
his  name,  and  has  made  an  especial  study  of 
the  philosophers  of  the  present  time;  and 
because  of  this  vast  amount  of  book  learning 
and  his  supposedly  great  intelligence  he  is 
entitled  to  indulgence,  says  my  son,  and  should 
not  be  judged  by  the  standards  that  rule 
ordinary  people,  who  live  upon  a  lower  plane. 
I  say  that  his  knowledge  and  greater  intelli- 
gence (which  latter  I  very  much  doubt)  in- 
crease his  responsibilities  and  should  make  of 
him  an  example  for  the  better  living  of  men. 

A  clever  bad  man  is  like  vile  characters 
scrawled  in  ink  of  gold,  and  should  be  thrown 
aside  as  fit  only  for  the  braziers. 

He  is  handsome  in  my  daughter's  eyes;  but 
I  say  virtue  is  within  the  man,  not  upon  his 


Chinese     Courtyard  213 

skin.  He  fascinates  my  younger  sons  with  his 
philosophy  and  his  tea-house  oratory.  I  do 
not  like  philosophy,  it  is  all  marked  with 
the  stamp  of  infidelity  and  irreligion.  It  is 
rarely  that  a  man  devotes  himself  to  it  with- 
out robbing  himself  of  his  faith,  and  casting 
off  the  restraints  of  his  religion;  or,  if  they  do 
not  lose  it  utterly,  they  so  adulterate  it  with 
their  philosophy  that  it  is  impossible  to  sepa- 
rate the  false  from  the  true.  The  reading 
of  philosophic  writings,  so  full  of  vain  and 
delusive  reasonings,  should  be  forbidden  to 
our  young  folk,  just  as  the  slippery  banks 
of  a  river  are  forbidden  to  one  who  knows 
not  how  to  swim.  I  will  have  none  of 
them  in  our  library,  nor  will  I  allow  their 
father  to  read  them  where  his  sons  can  see 
him.  The  snake-charmer  should  not  touch 
the  serpents  before  his  child's  eyes,  know- 
ing that  the  child  will  try  to  imitate  him  in 
all  things. 

It  is  "as  pouring  water  in  a  frog's  face" 
to  talk  to  these,  my  children,  who  think  a 
man,  with  words  upon  his  lips,  a  sage.  I  say 
a  dog  is  not  a  good  dog  because  he  is  a  good 
barker,  nor  should  a  man  be  considered  a  good 
man  because  he  is  a  good  talker;  but  I  see 
only  pity  in  their  faces  that  their  mother  is  so 


My    Lady    of    the 


far  behind  the  times.  These  boys  of  ours  are 
so  much  attracted  by  the  glimpses  they  have 
had  of  European  civilisation,  that  they  look 
down  upon  their  own  nationality.  They  have 
been  abroad  only  long  enough  to  take  on  the 
veneer  of  Western  education;  it  is  a  half-and- 
half  knowledge;  and  it  is  these  young  men  who 
become  the  discontented  ones  of  China. 
When  they  return  they  do  not  find  employ- 
ment immediately,  since  they  have  grown  out 
of  touch  with  their  country  and  their  country's 
customs.  They  feel  that  they  should  begin  at 
the  top  of  the  ladder,  instead  of  working  up 
slowly,  rung  by  rung,  as  their  fathers  did 
before  them.  They  must  be  masters  all  at 
once,  not  realising  that,  even  with  their  tiny 
grains  of  foreign  knowledge,  they  have  not  yet 
experience  to  make  them  leaders  of  great 
enterprises  or  of  men;  yet  they  know  too 
much  to  think  of  going  back  into  their  father's 
shop. 

I  realise  that  the  students  who  go  abroad 
from  China  have  many  difficulties  to  overcome. 
It  is  hard  to  receive  their  information  and 
instruction  in  a  language  not  their  mother 
tongue.  They  have  small  chance  to  finish 
their  education  by  practical  work  in  bank  or 
shop  or  factory.  They  get  a  mass  of  book 


Chinese     Courtyard  215 

knowledge  and  little  opportunity  to  practise 
the  theories  which  they  learn,  and  they  do  not 
understand  that  the  text-book  knowledge  is 
nearly  all  foreign  to  their  country  and  to  the 
temperament  of  their  race.  I  often  ask,  when 
looking  at  my  son,  what  is  his  gain?  I  pre- 
sume it  is  in  securing  a  newer,  broader  point  of 
view,  an  ability  to  adjust  himself  to  modern 
conditions,  and  a  wider  sympathy  with  the 
movements  of  the  world. 

China  has  for  centuries  been  lost  to  the 
world  by  reason  of  her  great  exclusion,  her  self- 
satisfaction  and  blind  reliance  upon  the  ways 
marked  out  for  her  by  sages  of  other  days. 
These  young  men,  with  the  West  in  their  eyes, 
are  coming  back  to  shock  their  fathers'  land 
into  new  channels.  The  process  may  not  be 
pleasant  for  us  of  the  old  school,  but  quite 
likely  it  is  necessary.  Yet,  I  feel  deep  within 
me,  as  I  look  at  them,  that  these  new  Western- 
ised Easterners  with  their  foreign  ways  and 
clever  English  are  not  to  be  the  final  saviours 
of  China.  They  are  but  the  clarion  voices 
that  are  helping  to  awake  the  slumbering 
power.  China  must  depend  upon  the  firmer 
qualities  of  the  common  people,  touched  with 
the  breath  of  the  West. 

It  is  with  great  sorrow  that  we  mothers  and 


216  My    lady    of    the 

fathers  see  our  boys  and  girls,  especially  those 
who  return  from  abroad,  neglecting  and  scoff- 
ing at  our  modes  of  education  that  have 
endured  and  done  such  noble  work  for  cen- 
turies past.  I  know  it  is  necessary  to  study 
things  modern  to  keep  up  with  the  demands 
of  the  times;  but  they  can  do  this  and  still 
reserve  some  hours  for  the  reading  of  the 
classics.  Instead  of  always  quoting  Byron, 
Burns,  or  Shelley,  as  do  my  son  and  daughter, 
let  them  repeat  the  beautiful  words  of  Tu 
Fu,  Li  Po,  Po  Chii-i,  our  poets  of  the  golden 
age. 

In  no  country  is  real  learning  held  in  higher 
esteem  than  in  China.  It  is  the  greatest  char- 
acteristic of  the  nation  that,  in  every  grade  of 
society,  education  is  considered  above  all  else. 
Why,  then,  should  our  young  people  be 
ashamed  of  their  country's  learning?  The 
Chinese  have  devoted  themselves  to  the  cul- 
tivation of  literature  for  a  longer  period  by 
some  thousands  of  years  than  any  existing 
nation.  The  people  who  lived  at  the  time  of 
our  ancestors,  the  peoples  of  Egypt,  the 
Greeks,  the  Romans,  have  disappeared  ages 
ago  and  have  left  only  their  histories  writ  in 
book  or  stone.  The  Chinese  alone  have 
continued  to  give  to  the  world  their  treasures 


Chinese     Courtyard 


of  thought  these  five  thousand  years.  To 
literature  and  to  it  alone  they  look  for  the 
rule  to  guide  them  in  their  conduct.  To  them 
all  writing  is  most  sacred.  The  very  pens  and 
papers  used  in  the  making  of  their  books  have 
become  objects  of  veneration.  Even  our 
smallest  village  is  provided  with  a  scrap-box 
into  which  every  bit  of  paper  containing  words 
or  printed  matter  is  carefully  placed,  to  await 
a  suitable  occasion  when  it  may  be  reverently 
burned. 

Change  is  now  the  order  of  the  day,  edu- 
cationally as  well  as  politically.  We  do  not 
hear  the  children  shouting  their  tasks  at  the 
top  of  their  voices,  nor  do  they  learn  by  heart 
the  thirteen  classics,  sitting  on  their  hard 
benches  within  the  simple  rooms  with  earthen 
floor,  where  the  faint  light  comes  straggling 
through  the  unglazed  windows  on  the  boy  who 
hopes  to  gain  the  prize  that  will  lead  him  to  the 
great  Halls  of  Examination  at  Peking.  If, 
while  there,  he  is  favoured  by  the  God  of  Learn- 
ing and  passes  the  examination,  he  will  come 
back  to  his  village  an  honour  to  his  province, 
and  all  his  world  will  come  and  do  him  rever- 
ence, from  the  viceroy  in  his  official  chair  to 
the  meanest  worker  in  the  fields.  These  old- 
time  examinations  are  gone,  the  degrees 


218  My    Lady    of    the 

which  were  our  pride  have  been  abolished,  the 
subjects  of  study  in  the  schools  have  been 
completely  changed.  The  privileges  which 
were  once  given  our  scholars,  the  social  and 
political  offices  which  were  once  open  to  the 
winner  of  the  highest  prize,  have  been  thrown 
upon  the  altar  of  modernity.  They  say  it  is 
a  most  wise  move  and  leads  to  the  greater 
individualism,  which  is  now  the  battle-cry  of 
China.  The  fault  of  the  old  examination,  we 
are  told,  is  the  lack  of  original  ideas  which 
might  be  expressed  by  a  student.  He  must 
give  the  usual  interpretations  of  the  classics. 
Now  the  introduction  of  free  thought  and  pri- 
vate opinion  has  produced  in  China  an 
upheaval  in  men's  minds.  The  new  scholars 
may  say  what  they  think  wisest,  and  they 
even  try  to  show  that  Confucius  was  at 
heart  a  staunch  republican,  and  that  Mencius 
only  thinly  veiled  his  sentiments  of  modern 
philosophy. 

Perhaps  the  memory  work  of  the  Chinese 
education  was  wrong;  but  it  served  its  purpose 
once,  if  tales  are  true. 

It  is  said  that  many  hundreds  of  years  ago, 
the  founder  of  the  Chinese  dynasty,  the  man 
of  pride  who  styled  himself  Emperor  the  First, 
conceived  the  idea  of  destroying  all  literature 


Chinese     Courtyard  219 

which  was  before  his  reign,  so  that  he  might 
be  regarded  by  posterity  as  the  founder  of 
the  Chinese  Empire.  It  is  believed  by  many 
Chinese  scholars  that  this  wicked  thing  was 
done,  and  that  not  a  single  perfect  copy  of 
any  book  escaped  destruction.  He  even  went 
so  far  'as  to  bury  alive  above  five  hundred  of 
the  best  scholars  of  the  land,  that  none  might 
remain  to  write  of  his  cruel  deed.  But  the 
classics  had  been  too  well  learned  by  the 
scholars,  and  were  reproduced  from  memory 
to  help  form  the  minds  of  China  for  many  tens 
of  years.  This  could  be  done  to-day  if  a 
similar  tragedy  were  enacted.  Thousands  of 
boys  have  committed  the  great  books  to 
heart,  and  this  storing  in  the  mind  of  enormous 
books  has  developed  in  our  race  a  marvellous 
memory,  if,  as  others  say,  it  has  taken  away 
their  power  of  thinking  for  themselves. 

Which  is  the  best?  Only  time  will  tell. 
But  we  are  told  that  the  literati  of  China,  the 
aristocracy  of  our  land,  must  go.  Yet,  as  of 
old,  it  is  the  educated  men  who  will  move 
China.  Without  them,  nothing  can  be  done, 
for  the  masses  will  respect  education  and  the 
myriads  will  blindly  follow  a  leader  whom  they 
feel  to  be  a  true  scholar;  and  it  will  be  hard 
to  change  the  habits  of  a  people  who  have  been 


220  My    Lady     of    the 

taught  for  centuries  that  education  is  another 
word  for  officialdom. 

This  new  education,  in  my  mind,  must  not 
be  made  so  general;  it  must  be  made  more  per- 
sonal. Three  things  should  be  taken  into 
account:  who  the  boy  is,  where  he  is,  and 
where  he  is  going.  It  is  not  meet  to  educate 
the  son  of  my  gate-keeper  the  same  as  my  son. 
He  should  be  made  a  good  workman,  the  best 
of  his  kind,  better  to  fill  the  place  to  which  the 
Gods  have  called  him.  Give  our  boys  the  mod- 
ern education,  if  we  must,  but  remember  and 
respect  the  life  work  each  may  have  to  follow. 
Another  thing  we  should  remember :  the  prog- 
ress in  the  boy's  worldly  knowledge  should 
not  make  him  hard  in  his  revolt  against  his 
Gods,  nor  should  his  intelligence  be  freed 
without  teaching  him  self-control.  That  is 
fatal  for  our  Eastern  race.  Let  him  learn, 
in  his  books  and  in  his  laboratories,  that  he 
moulds  his  destiny  by  his  acts  in  later  life,  and 
thus  gain  true  education,  the  education  of 
the  soul  as  well  as  of  the  mind. 

I  have  written  thee  a  sermon,  but  it  is  a 
subject  on  which  we  mothers  are  thinking 
much.  It  is  before  us  daily,  brought  to  our 
courtyards  by  our  sons  and  daughters,  and  we 
see  the  good  and  the  evil  of  trying  to  reach  at  a 


Chinese     Courtyard  221 

single  bound  the  place  at  which  other  nations 
have  at  last  arrived  after  centuries  of  weary 
climbing. 

I  must  go  to  the  women's  quarters  and  stop 
their  chattering.  Oh,  Mother  mine,  why 
didst  thou  send  to  me  that  priest  of  thine? 

Kwei-li 


222  My    Lady    of    the 


XVIII 

Dear  Mother, 

I  must  introduce  thee  to  thy  new  daughter- 
in-law.  Yes,  I  can  see  thee  start.  I  will  tell 
thee  quickly.  Thy  son  hath  not  taken  to 
himself  another  wife,  but  it  is  I,  Kwei-li, 
who  should  be  made  known  to  thee  anew. 
Kwei-li,  the  wife  of  the  Governor  of  Kiang-si, 
who  has  become  so  foreignised  that  the  mother 
of  her  husband  would  never  know  her.  If 
things  keep  on  the  path  they  have  gone  for 
these  last  few  moons,  I  fully  expect  thou  wilt 
see  me  with  that  band  of  women  who  are  mak- 
ing such  a  great  outcry  for  their  rights  and 
freedom.  I  cannot  even  explain  them  to 
thee,  as  thou  wouldst  not  understand. 

My  last  adventure  in  the  ways  of  the 
modern  woman  is  in  relation  to  the  courtship 
of  my  son.  Tang-si,  my  second  son,  is  in 
love;  and  I,  his  mother,  am  aiding  and  abet- 
ting him,  and  allowing  him  to  see  his  sweet- 
heart in  the  foreign  way.  I  know  thou  wilt 
blush  when  thou  readest  this;  but  I  have  been 
in  the  hands  of  the  Gods  and  allowed  not  to 


Chinese    Courtyard  223 

speak  of  "custom,"  or  propriety,  and  when  I 
have  tried  to  reason  with  my  son  and  talk  to 
him  in  regard  to  what  is  seemly,  he  laughs  at 
me  and  calls  me  pet  names,  and  rubs  my  hair 
the  wrong  way  and  says  I  am  his  little  mother. 
I  knew  that  astounding  fact  long  years  ago, 
and  still  I  say  that  is  no  reason  why  I  should  go 
against  all  customs  and  traditions  of  my  race. 

I  told  him  I  was  taught  that  men  and  women 
should  not  sit  together  in  the  same  room,  nor 
keep  their  wearing  apparel  in  the  same  place, 
nor  even  cleanse  them  in  the  same  utensils. 
They  should  not  look  upon  each  other,  or 
hand  a  thing  directly  from  man  to  woman 
hand.  I  was  taught  that  it  was  seemly  and 
showed  a  maidenly  reserve  to  observe  a  cer- 
tain distance  in  my  relations  even  with  my 
husband  or  my  brothers,  but  I  have  found  that 
the  influence  of  reason  upon  love  is  like  that  of 
a  raindrop  upon  the  ocean,  "one  little  mark 
upon  the  water's  face  and  then  it  disappears." 

Now  I  will  tell  thee  all  about  it.  Tang-si 
came  to  me  one  day,  and  after  speaking  of 
many  things  of  no  importance,  he  finally  said, 
"Mother,  wilt  thou  ask  Kah-li,  Wu  Tai-tai's 
daughter,  here  to  tea?"  I  said,  "Why,  is 
she  a  friend  of  thy  sister's?"  He  said,  while 
looking  down  upon  the  floor,  "I  do  not  know, 


My    Lady     of    the 


but  —  but  —  she  is  a  special  friend  of  mine." 
I  looked  at  him  in  amazement.  "Thou  hast 
seen  her?"  ;<Yes,  many  times.  I  want  thee 
to  ask  her  to  the  house,  where  we  may  have  a 
chance  to  talk."  I  sat  back  in  my  chair  and 
looked  at  him,  and  said  within  myself,  "Was 
ever  mother  blessed  with  such  children; 
what  may  I  next  expect?"  He  gave  me  a 
quick  look,  and  came  over  and  took  my  hand 
in  his,  and  said,  "Now,  Mother,  do  not  get 
excited,  and  don't  look  as  if  the  Heavens  were 
going  to  fall.  I  —  well  —  thou  makest  it  hard  to 
tell  thee,  but  I  want  to  marry  Kah-li,  and  I 
would  like  a  chance  of  seeing  her  as  the 
foreign  men  see  their  wives  before  they  marry 
them."  I  said,  quite  calmly  for  me,  "Thou 
meanest  thou  art  choosing  thy  wife  instead  of 
allowing  thy  father  and  mother  to  choose 
her?"  He  said,  "Why,  yes;  I  have  to  live 
with  her  and  I  ought  to  choose  her."  I 
said  nothing  —  what  is  the  use?  I  have 
learned  that  my  men-folk  have  strong  minds, 
which  they  certainly  must  have  inherited  from 
thine  honourable  family.  I  said  that  first 
I  would  speak  to  her  mother,  and  if  she 
approved  of  her  daughter's  seeing  my  son  in 
this  most  unbecoming  manner,  I  would  do 
whatsoever  he  wished  in  the  matter.  I  could 


[Page  221] 


HY  didst  thou  send  that  priest  of  thine? 


Chinese     Courtyard  225 

not  wait,  but  went  at  once  to  the  house  of 
Wu  Tai-tai.  We  discussed  the  matter  over 
many  cups  of  tea,  and  we  saw  that  we  are 
but  clouds  driven  by  the  winds  and  we  must 
obey. 

She  has  been  here  for  tea,  and  I  am  charmed 
with  her.  She  is  as  pretty  as  a  jewel  of  pure 
jade;  I  do  not  blame  my  son.  She  has  laugh- 
ter in  her  dancing  eyes  and  seems  as  if  she 
would  sing  her  life  away  from  year  to  year  and 
see  life  alway  through  the  golden  gleam  of 
happy  days.  She  is  respectful  and  modest, 
and  now  I  feel  she  is  one  of  the  family  and  I 
ask  her  to  join  us  in  all  our  f eastings.  She 
came  to  the  feast  when  we  burned  the  Kitchen 
God,  and  joined  with  us  in  prayers  as  he 
ascended  to  the  great  Spirit  to  tell  him  of  our 
actions  in  the  past  year.  I  am  afraid  our 
young  people  do  not  believe  o'ermuch  in  this 
small  God  of  the  Household,  who  sits  so  quietly 
upon  his  shelf  above  the  kitchen  stove  for 
twelve  long  months,  watching  all  that  goes  on 
within  the  home,  then  gives  his  message  for 
good  or  ill  to  Him  above;  but  they  are  too 
respectful  to  say  ought  against  it — in  my 
hearing.  They  must  respect  the  old  Gods 
until  they  find  something  better  to  take  their 
place. 


My    Lady    of    the 


I  do  not  know  but  that  my  son  is  right  in 
this  question  of  his  courtship.  It  is  pretty 
to  see  them  as  they  wander  through  the  gar- 
dens, while  we  mothers  sit  upon  the  balconies 
and  gossip.  Their  love  seems  to  be  as  pure  as 
spotless  rice  and  "so  long  as  colour  is  colour 
and  life  is  life  will  the  youth  with  his  sublime 
folly  wait  for  the  meeting  of  his  loved  one." 
What  matter  if  the  winter  days  will  come  to 
them  or  if  "the  snow  is  always  sure  to  blot 
out  the  garden"  -to-day  is  spring,  and  love  is 
love  and  youth  is  happy. 

Thy  shameless  daughter 

Kwei-li 


Chinese     Courtyard 


XIX 

M y  Dear  Mother, 

Thy  gifts  which  came  by  the  hand  of  Tuang- 
fang  are  most  welcome.  We  have  already 
drunk  of  the  sun-dried  tea,  and  it  brings  to 
thought  the  sight  of  the  long,  laden  trays  of 
the  fragrant  leaves  as  they  lie  in  the  sun  on 
the  mountain-side.  The  rose  wine  we  will 
use  on  occasions  of  special  rejoicing;  and  I 
thank  thee  again  for  the  garments  which  will 
bring  comfort  to  so  many  in  the  coming  days 
of  cold.  I  was  glad  to  see  Tuang-fang,  and 
sorry  to  hear  that  he,  with  his  brother,  are 
going  so  far  away  from  home  in  search  of 
labour.  Is  there  not  work  enough  for  our  men 
in  the  province  without  going  to  that  land  of 
heat  and  sickness? 

Our  people  go  far  in  their  passion  for  labour; 
in  search  of  it  they  cross  land  and  sea.  They 
are  the  workers  of  the  world,  who  sell  their 
labour  for  a  price;  and  it  is  only  strong  men 
with  great  self-dependence  who  are  capable  of 
taking  a  road  that  is  likely  never  to  join 


228  My    Lady     of    the 

again  those  who  speak  their  language  and  wor- 
ship their  Gods.  What  is  it  that  has  given 
these  men  this  marvellous  adaptability  to  all 
conditions,  however  hard  they  may  seem? 
They  can  live  and  work  in  any  climate,  they 
are  at  home  in  the  sandy  wastes  of  our  great 
deserts  or  in  the  swamps  of  the  southern 
countries.  They  bear  the  biting  cold  of 
northern  lands  as  readily  as  they  labour 
under  the  burning  sun  of  Singapore  and  Java. 
The  more  I  come  out  from  the  courtyard 
and  see  our  people,  the  more  I  admire  them; 
I  see  the  things  that  are  so  often  lost  sight 
of  by  those  of  other  lands  who  seek  to  study 
them.  They  are  a  philosophical  race  and  bear 
the  most  dreadful  losses  and  calamities  with 
wonderful  bravery.  Nothing  daunts  them. 
Behold  the  family  of  Tuang-fang:  they 
saw  their  home  ruined  at  time  of  flood  and 
began  again  on  the  morrow  to  build  on  the 
remaining  foundations.  They  saw  their  fields 
burned  up  by  drouth,  and  took  their  winter 
clothing  to  the  pawn-shop  to  get  money  to 
buy  seed  for  the  coming  spring.  They  did 
not  complain  so  long  as  they  could  get  suffi- 
cient food  to  feed  their  bodies  and  the  coarse 
blue  cloth  with  which  to  clothe  them,  and 
when  these  failed  they  sent  their  three  strong 


Chinese     Courtyard  229 

sons,  the  best  of  the  family,  to  the  rubber 
plantations  of  the  South. 

We  hear  so  much  in  the  papers  here  of  the 
"Yellow  Peril."  If  there  is  a  Yellow  Peril,  it 
lies  in  the  fact  that  our  men  are  ready  to 
labour  unceasingly  for  a  wage  on  which  most 
Europeans  would  starve,  and  on  that  pittance 
they  manage  to  save  and  become  rich  and 
prosperous.  They  have  gone  into  other  lands 
wherever  they  have  found  an  opening,  and 
some  of  the  southern  countries,  like  Singapore 
and  the  Philippines,  owe  much  of  their  com- 
mercial progress  to  our  people.  They  are 
honest  and  industrious,  and  until  the  foreigner 
began  to  feel  the  pinch  of  competition,  until 
he  found  that  he  must  work  all  day  and  not 
sleep  the  hours  away  if  he  would  be  in  the 
race  with  the  man  from  the  Eastern  land,  he 
had  nothing  to  say  about  the  character  of  the 
man  from  China.  But  so  soon  as  he  felt  the 
pressure  of  want  because  of  his  sloth,  he  began 
to  find  that  the  "yellow  man"  was  vicious, 
and  soon  his  depravity  became  a  by-word. 
The  Chinese  were  abused  because  of  their 
virtues  rather  than  their  vices,  for  things  for 
which  all  other  nations  are  applauded — love 
of  work  and  economy.  It  is  the  industry  of 
our  people  that  offends,  because  it  competes 


230  My    JLady    of    the 

with  the  half-done  work  of  the  white  man, 
who  dissipates  his  time  and  money. 

The  men  from  this  land  have  learned  their 
ways  of  work  at  home,  where  the  struggle 
for  existence  is  hard.  Sunrise  sees  the  car- 
penter and  the  smith,  the  shoemaker  and  the 
beater  of  cotton  at  their  labour,  and  the  mid- 
night cry  of  the  watchman  often  finds  them 
patiently  earning  the  rice  for  the  morrow's 
meal.  And  they  have  not  learned  to  disobey 
when  told  to  go  to  work.  There  are  no  strikes 
as  in  the  foreign  countries.  Our  workmen 
are  obedient,  although  it  is  said  that  they 
lack  in  leadership,  that  nothing  is  originated 
within  themselves;  but  they  can  be  taught, 
and  all  who  employ  Chinese  labour  testify 
to  their  ability  to  follow  a  good  master. 

I  think,  from  hearing  the  gossip  from  thy 
son's  courtyard,  that  when  China  is  again 
peaceful,  there  will  be  more  chance  for  the  men 
within  her  borders,  who  can  then  stay  beside 
their  fires  and  earn  their  food.  Our  land  is  a 
land  of  fertile  soil,  of  rich  minerals,  and  great 
rivers.  It  is  said  that  there  are  millions  and 
millons  of  acres  on  which  food  or  other  products 
can  be  grown,  and  that  a  great  part  of  China 
may  be  made  one  vast  garden.  The  German 
scientist  who  is  trying  to  get  a  coal  mine  con- 


Chinese     Courtyard  231 

cession  from  the  government  told  my  husband 
that  there  were  tens  of  millions  of  tons  of  coal 
of  the  best  quality  in  China,  and  that  the  single 
province  of  Shansi  could  supply  the  entire 
world  for  a  thousand  years.  No  wonder  the 
Germans  are  looking  with  longing  eyes  on 
China!  But  we  want  these  riches  and  this 
labour  for  our  people.  If  it  is  worth  the 
time  of  men  of  other  countries  to  come  to  this 
far-off  land  in  search  of  what  lies  beneath  our 
soil,  it  is  worth  our  while  to  guard  it  and  keep 
it  for  our  own. 

We  hear  news  of  battles  and  of  secret 
plottings,  and  I  am  worried  about  my  son, 
who  is  in  Canton,  the  province  that  seems  to 
be  the  centre  of  rebellion  and  the  breeding- 
place  of  plots  and  treachery.  I  wonder  what 
will  be  the  outcome  of  it  all;  if  after  all  this 
turmoil  and  bloodshed  China  will  really 
become  a  different  nation?  It  is  hard  to 
change  the  habits  of  a  nation,  and  I  think 
that  China  will  not  be  changed  by  this  convul- 
sion. The  real  Chinese  will  be  the  same 
passive,  quiet,  slow-thinking  and  slow-moving 
toiler,  not  knowing  or  caring  whether  his 
country  is  a  republic  or  whether  he  is  ruled 
by  the  Son  of  Heaven.  He  will  be  a  stable, 
peaceable,  law-abiding  citizen  or  subject, 


My    Lady     of    the 


with  respect  for  his  officials  so  long  as  they  are 
not  too  oppressive;  not  asking  whether  the 
man  who  rules  him  is  called  a  governor  or  a 
futai,  so  long  as  work  is  plentiful  and  rice  is 
cheap.  These  patient,  plodding  men  of  China 
have  held  together  for  countless  thousands  of 
years,  and  I  am  sure  that  their  strength  is 
derived  from  qualities  capable  of  bearing 
great  strain;  and  our  government,  even  the 
government  which  we  are  trying  so  hard  to 
overturn  and  mould  on  Western  lines,  must 
have  suited  the  country  and  the  people,  be- 
cause nothing  ever  persists  generation  after 
generation,  century  after  century,  without 
being  suited  to  its  environment  and  more  or 
less  adapted  to  the  changes  which  time  always 
brings. 

Confucius  said,  "When  I  was  on  a  mission  to 
Ch'u  State,  I  saw  a  litter  of  young  pigs 
nestling  close  to  their  dead  mother.  After  a 
while  they  looked  at  her,  then  all  left  the 
dead  body  and  went  off.  For  their  mother 
did  not  look  at  them  any  more,  nor  did  she 
seem  any  more  to  be  of  their  kind.  What 
they  loved  was  their  mother:  not  the  body 
which  contained  her,  but  that  which  made 
the  body  what  it  was." 

That  is  the  way  with  our  country.    She 


Chinese     Courtyard  233 

may  leave  the  dead  forms  of  her  old  govern- 
ment, perhaps  it  will  be  her  misfortune  to 
leave  her  religion,  but  the  spirit  of  her 
government  and  the  spirit  of  her  religion 
she  will  always  love. 

But  I  must  not  gossip  more  with  thee  over 
my  dearly  loved  country  and  her  people.  I 
know  I  talk  to  thee  o'ermuch  of  politics 
and  the  greedy  eyes  of  foreigners  which  are 
fixed  upon  our  land,  but  one  cannot  live  in 
Shanghai,  even  behind  the  women's  archway, 
without  hearing,  night  and  day,  the  things 
that  move  this,  our  world,  so  strongly.  Even 
my  small  children  play  at  war,  shoot  their 
rebels,  build  their  fortresses  and  drive  the 
foreigners  from  off  their  piles  of  sand. 

I  cry  to  thee,  my  Mother,  because  a  heart 
must  speak  its  bitterness,  and  here  our  lips 
are  sealed  to  all.  I  dare  not  even  tell  thy 
son,  my  husband,  all  that  passes  in  my  mind 
as  I  look  from  out  my  window  at  this  fighting, 
struggling,  maddened  world  that  surges  round 
me. 

We  are  more  than  troubled  about  our  son. 

Thy  daughter 

Kwei-li 


234  My    Lady    of    the 


XX 


My  Dear  Mother, 


I  send  to  thee  some  silken  wadding  for  the 
lining  of  thy  coat,  also  a  piece  of  sable  to  make 
a  scarf  for  Su-su,  and  a  box  of  clothing  for 
her  new-born  son.  The  children  each  have 
written  her  a  letter,  and  the  candles  have 
been  lighted  before  Kwan-yin,  to  show  our 

joy. 

We  have  a  guest,  old  General  Wang,  who 
is  on  his  way  to  visit  with  my  father.  He 
is  of  the  old,  old  China,  and  wags  his  head 
most  dolefully  over  the  troubles  of  his  country, 
and  says  a  republic  never  will  succeed.  My 
husband  was  bewailing  the  fact  of  the  empty 
strong-box,  and  Wang  said,  "Why  don't  you 
do  what  I  did  when  I  was  in  command  of  the 
troops?  When  money  was  scarce,  I  simply 
stopped  a  dollar  a  month  from  each  man's 
pay,  and,  lo,  there  was  the  money."  He  was 
quite  shameless  in  regard  to  the  old-time 
"  squeeze  "  and  said  it  was  necessary.  When 
he  was  general  he  received  the  salary  of  an 
ill-paid  servant  and  was  expected  to  keep  up 


Chinese     C  ourtyard  235 

the  state  of  a  small  king.  But  there  were 
many  ways  to  fill  the  empty  pockets.  When  a 
high  official  was  sent  to  inspect  his  troops, 
men  were  compelled  to  come  from  the  fields, 
the  coolies  to  lay  down  their  burdens,  the 
beggar  to  leave  his  begging-bowl,  and  all  to 
stand  straight  as  soldiers  with  guns  within 
their  hands.  But  when  the  officer  was  gone 
each  went  his  way  with  a  small  present  in 
his  hand  and  did  not  appear  again  until  the 
frightened  official  was  compelled  to  sweep  the 
highways  and  byways  to  find  men  enough  to 
agree  with  lists  paid  by  the  government. 

But  those  times  are  past,  and  these  old-time 
officials  find  it  safer  to  retire  to  homes  within 
their  provinces. 

He  told  us  of  Chung-tai,  who  was  Taotai  of 
our  city  at  one  time.  Dost  thou  remember 
him  ?  He  made  many  millions  in  the  exporta- 
tion of  rice  at  time  of  famine.  He  was  asked 
to  go  to  Peking,  and  promised  a  high  position. 
He  sent  as  answer  the  story  of  Chung  Tzu 
the  philosopher,  who  was  fishing  in  the  Piu 
when  the  Prince  of  Ch'u  sent  high  officials  to 
ask  him  to  take  charge  of  the  State.  Chung 
went  on  fishing  and  without  turning  his  head 
said:  "I  have  heard  that  in  Ch'u  there  is  a 
sacred  tortoise  which  has  been  dead  now  some 


236  My    Lady    of    the 

three  thousand  years,  and  that  the  Prince 
keeps  this  tortoise  carefully  enclosed  in  a 
chest  on  the  altar  of  the  sacred  temple.  Now 
would  this  tortoise  rather  be  dead  and  have  its 
remains  venerated,  or  be  alive  and  wagging 
its  tail  in  the  mud?"  "It  would  rather  be 
alive  and  wagging  its  tail  in  the  mud,"  said 
the  officials.  "Begone"  said  Chung.  "The 
tortoise  is  a  symbol  of  longevity  and  great 
wisdom.  It  would  not  befit  me  to  aspire  to 
greater  wisdom  than  the  tortoise.  I,  too, 
prefer  the  mud." 

Chung  spoke  bravely  in  sending  this  reply 
to  Peking;  but  no  sooner  was  it  sent  than  he 
gathered  his  family  and  his  sycee  and  departed 
for  Shanghai,  where  he  feels  more  sure  of  the 
protection  of  the  foreign  settlements  than  he 
does  of  the  kindly  intentions  of  His  Excellency 
Yuan  toward  his  dollars. 

The  children  have  come  home  and  are 
clamouring  for  their  supper.  They  are  growing 
rougher  and  noisier  each  day,  and,  I  fear,  are 
spending  far  too  many  hours  in  the  servants' 
courtyard,  where  they  hear  of  things  not 
seemly  for  young  ears.  Canst  thou  send  me 
Wong-si  for  a  few  months?  She  might  be 
able  to  keep  some  order  in  my  household,  al- 
though I  doubt  a  person  of  a  nature  not  divine 


Chinese     Courtyard  237 

being  able  to  still  the  many  tongues  I  have  now 
about  me. 

We  send  thee  love,  and  greetings  to  thy 
new-born  great-grandson. 

Kwei-li 


238  My    Lady    of    the 


XXI 

My  Dear  Mother, 

I  have  been  in  the  country  with  my  friend 
Ang  Ti-ti.  It  was  the  time  of  pilgrimage  to 
the  graves  of  her  family  at  the  temple  near 
Wu-seh.  My  household  gave  me  many 
worries,  and  my  husband  said  it  was  a  time  of 
rest  for  me,  so  we  took  a  boat,  with  only  a  few 
servants,  as  I  am  tired  of  chattering  women, 
and  spent  three  long  happy  days  amongst  the 
hills.  We  sat  upon  the  deck  as  the  boat  was 
slowly  drawn  along  the  canal,  and  watched 
the  valley  that  autumn  now  is  covering  with 
her  colours  rare.  All  the  green  of  the  fields 
is  changed.  All  the  gay  foliage  of  the  trees 
upon  the  hillsides  will  soon  be  dead  and  crum- 
bling. These  withered  leaves  that  once  waved 
gaily  in  the  air  are  lying  now  in  clustered 
heaps,  or  fluttering  softly  to  the  ground  like 
dull,  brown  butterflies  who  "are  tired  with 
flight.  The  only  touch  of  colour  is  on  the 
maple-trees,  which  still  cling  with  jealous 
hands  to  coverings  of  red  and  gold.  The 
autumn  winds  wailed  sadly  around  our  cabin 


anchored  at  night  by  a  marshj  bank 
girdled  with  tall  yellow  reeds. 


!  Page  239  ] 


Chinese     Courtyard  239 

windows,  and  every  gust  brought  desolation 
to  tree  and  shrub  and  waving  grass.  Far 
away  the  setting  sun  turned  golden  trees  to 
flame,  and  now  and  then  on  the  sluggish  waters 
of  the  canal  would  drift  in  lonely  splendour 
a  shining  leaf  that  autumn  winds  had  touched 
and  made  into  a  thing  of  more  than  beauty. 

We  anchored  the  first  night  by  a  marshy 
bank  girdled  with  tall  yellow  reeds  and  dwarf 
bamboo,  and  from  our  quiet  cabin  listened  to 
the  rainy  gusts  that  swept  the  valley.  Out 
of  the  inky  clouds  the  lightning  flashed  and 
lighted  up  each  branch  and  stem  and  swaying 
leaf,  revealing  to  our  half-blinded  eyes  the 
rain-swept  valley;  then  darkness  came  with 
her  thick  mantle  and  covered  all  again. 

We  discussed  the  past,  the  present,  and  the 
future;  and  then,  as  always  when  mothers 
meet,  the  talk  would  turn  to  children.  How 
we  are  moved  by  our  children!  We  are  like 
unto  the  Goddess  of  the  Pine-tree.  She  came 
out  from  her  rugged  covering  and  bore  a  man- 
child  for  her  husband's  house,  and  then  one 
day  the  overlord  of  all  that  land  sent  to  cut 
down  the  pine-tree,  that  its  great  trunk  might 
form  the  rooftree  of  his  temple.  At  the  first 
blow  of  the  axe  the  soul  glided  back  into  its 
hiding-place,  and  the  woman  was  no  more. 


240  My    Lady    of    the 

And  when  it  fell,  three  hundred  men  could  not 
move  it  from  its  place  of  falling;  but  her 
baby  came  and,  putting  out  his  hand,  said, 
"Come,"  and  it  followed  him  quite  quietly, 
gliding  to  the  very  doorway  of  the  temple. 
So  do  our  children  lead  us  with  their  hands  of 
love. 

On  the  second  day  we  went  to  the  temple  to 
offer  incense  at  the  family  shrine  of  Ang  Ti-ti. 
We  Chinese  ladies  love  these  pilgrimages  to 
these  shrines  of  our  ancestors,  and  it  is  we  who 
keep  up  the  family  worship.  We  believe  that 
it  is  from  the  past  that  we  must  learn,  and  "the 
past  is  a  pathway  which  spirits  have  trodden 
and  made  luminous."  It  is  true,  as  Lafcadio 
Hearn  has  written,  "We  should  be  haunted 
by  the  dead  men  and  women  of  our  race, 
the  ancestors  that  count  in  the  making  of 
our  souls  and  have  their  silent  say  in  every 
action,  thought  and  impulse  of  our  life.  Are 
not  our  ancestors  in  very  truth  our  souls? 
Is  not  every  action  the  work  of  the  dead 
who  dwell  within  us?  Have  not  our  im- 
pulses and  our  tendencies,  our  capacities  and 
our  weaknesses,  our  heroisms  and  our  fears, 
been  created  by  those  vanished  myriads  from 
whom  we  received  that  all-mysterious  gift  of 
life?  Should  we  think  of  that  thing  which 


Chinese     Courtyard  241 

is  in  each  of  us  and  which  we  call  'I,'  should 
it  be  'I*  or  'they'?  What  is  our  pride  or 
shame  but  the  pride  or  shame  of  the  unseen 
in  that  which  they  have  made?  And  what 
is  our  conscience  but  the  inherited  sum  of 
countless  dead  experiences  with  all  things 
good  and  evil? 

"In  this  worship  that  we  give  the  dead  they 
are  made  divine.  And  the  thought  of  this 
tender  reverence  will  temper  with  consolation 
the  melancholy  that  comes  with  age  to  all  of 
us.  Never  in  our  China  are  the  dead  too 
quickly  forgotten;  by  simple  faith  they  are 
still  thought  to  dwell  among  their  beloved, 
and  their  place  within  the  home  remains  holy. 
When  we  pass  to  the  land  of  shadows  we  know 
that  loving  lips  will  nightly  murmur  our 
names  before  the  family  shrine,  that  our 
faithful  ones  will  beseech  us  in  their  pain  and 
bless  us  in  their  joy.  We  will  not  be  left  alone 
upon  the  hillsides,  but  loving  hands  will  place 
before  our  tablet  the  fruits  and  flowers  and 
dainty  food  that  we  were  wont  to  like,  and 
will  pour  for  us  the  fragrant  cups  of  tea  or 
amber  rice-wine. 

"Strange  changes  are  coming  upon  this 
land,  old  customs  are  vanishing,  old  beliefs  are 
weakening,  the  thoughts  of  to-day  will  not  be 


My    Lady     of    the 


the  thoughts  of  to-morrow;  but  of  all  this  we 
will  know  nothing.  We  dream  that  for  us  as 
for  our  mothers  the  little  lamp  will  burn  on 
through  the  generations;  we  see  in  fancy  the 
yet  unborn,  the  children  of  our  children's 
children,  bowing  their  tiny  heads  and  making 
the  filial  obeisance  before  the  tablets  that  bear 
our  family  name." 

This  is  our  comfort,  we  who  feel  that 
"this  world  is  not  a  place  of  rest,  but  where 
we  may  now  take  our  little  ease,  until  the 
landlord  whom  we  never  see,  gives  our 
apartment  to  another  guest.'* 

As  I  said  to  thee,  it  is  the  women  who 
are  the  preservers  of  the  family  worship  and 
who  are  trying  hard  to  cling  to  old  loved 
customs.  Perhaps  it  is  because  we  suffer 
from  lack  of  facility  in  adapting  ourselves  to 
new  conditions.  We  are  as  fixed  as  the  star 
in  its  orbit.  Not  so  much  the  men  of  China 
but  we  women  of  the  inner  courtyards  seem 
to  our  younger  generation  to  stand  an  im- 
movable mountain  in  the  pathway  of  their 
freedom  from  the  old  traditions. 

In  this  course  we  are  only  following  woman 
nature.  An  instinct  more  powerful  than 
reason  seems  to  tell  us  that  we  must  preserve 
the  thing  we  know.  Change  we  fear.  We 


Chinese     C  ourtyard  243 

see  in  the  new  ideas  that  our  daughters  bring 
from  school,  disturbers  only  of  our  life's  ideals. 
Yet  the  new  thoughts  are  gathering  about 
our  retreats,  beating  at  our  doorways,  creep- 
ing in  at  the  closely  shuttered  windows,  even 
winning  our  husbands  and  our  children  from 
our  arms.  The  enclosing  walls  and  the  jeal- 
ously guarded  doors  of  our  courtyards  are 
impotent.  While  we  stand  a  foe  of  this  so- 
called  progress,  a  guardian  of  what  to  us 
seems  womanhood  and  modesty,  the  world 
around  us  is  moving,  feeling  the  impulse  of 
a  larger  life,  broadening  its  outlook  and 
clothing  itself  in  new  expression  that  we 
hardly  understand.  We  feel  that  we  cannot 
keep  up  with  this  generation;  and,  seeing 
ourselves  left  behind  with  our  dead  Gods,  we 
cry  out  against  the  change  which  is  coming 
to  our  daughters  with  the  advent  of  this  new 
education  and  the  knowledge  of  the  outside 
world.  But — 

All  happy  days  must  end,  and  we  floated 
slowly  back  to  the  busy  life  again.  As  we 
came  down  the  canal  in  the  soft  moonlight 
it  recalled  those  other  nights  to  me  upon  the 
mountain-side,  and  as  I  saw  the  lights  of  the 
city  before  us  I  remembered  the  old  poem 
of  Chang  Chih  Lo : 


244  My    Lady    of    the 

"The  Lady  Moon  is  my  lover, 

My  friends  are  the  Oceans  four, 
The  Heavens  have  roofed  me  over, 

And  the  Dawn  is  my  golden  door. 
I  would  liefer  follow  a  condor, 

Or  the  sea-gull  soaring  from  ken, 
Than  bury  my  Godhead  yonder 

In  the  dust  and  whirl  of  men." 

Thy  daughter 

Kwei-li 


Chinese     Courtyard  245 


XXII 

My  Dear  Mother, 

I  have  not  written  thee  for  many  days.  I 
came  back  from  my  happy  country  trip  to 
find  clouds  of  sorrow  wrapping  our  home  in 
close  embrace.  We  hear  Ting-fang  is  in  deep 
trouble,  and  we  cannot  understand  it.  He  is 
accused  of  being  in  league  with  the  Southern 
forces.  Of  course  we  do  not  believe  it,  my 
son  is  not  a  traitor;  but  black  forebodings  rise 
from  deeps  unknown  and  the  cold  trail  of 
fear  creeps  round  my  heart. 

But  I  cannot  brood  upon  my  fears  alone; 
this  world  seems  full  of  sorrow.  Just  now  I 
have  stopped  my  letter  to  see  a  woman  who 
was  brought  to  the  Yamen  for  trying  to  kill 
her  baby  daughter.  She  is  alone,  has  no  one 
to  help  her  in  her  time  of  desolation,  no  rice 
for  crying  children,  and  nothing  before  her 
except  to  sell  her  daughter  to  the  tea-house. 
She  gave  her  sleep;  and  who  can  blame 
her? 

Mother,  send  me  all  that  thou  canst  spare 
from  out  thy  plenty.  I  would  I  could  give 


246  My    Lady    of    the 

more.  I  would  be  a  lamp  for  those  who  need 
a  lamp,  a  bed  for  those  who  need  a  bed;  but 
I  am  helpless.  O,  He  who  hears  the  wretched 
when  they  cry,  deign  to  hear  these  mothers 
in  their  sorrow! 

Thy  daughter 

Kwei-li 


Chinese     Courtyard  247 


XXIII 

I  know  that  thou  hast  heard  the  news,  as  it 
is  in  all  the  papers.  Ting-fang  is  accused  of 
throwing  the  bomb  that  killed  General  Chang. 
I  write  to  reassure  thee  that  it  cannot  be  true. 
I  know  my  son.  Thou  knowest  thy  family. 
No  Liu  could  do  so  foul  a  deed. 

Do  not  worry;  we  will  send  thee  all  the  news. 
The  morrow's  tidings  will  be  well,  so  rest  in 
peace. 

Kwei-li 


248  My    Lady    of    the 


XXIV 

I  thank  thee  from  my  heart  for  the  ten 
thousand  taels  telegraphed  for  the  use  of  our 
son.  Father  has  sent  fifty  thousand  taels  to 
be  used  in  obtaining  his  freedom.  I  am  sure 
it  will  not  be  needed,  as  my  son  is  not  the  cul- 
prit. And  if  he  were,  it  is  not  the  olden  time 
when  a  life  could  be  bought  for  a  few  thousand 
ounces  of  silver,  no  matter  how  great  the  crime. 
We  will  not  bribe  the  Courts  of  Law,  even  for 
our  son. 

But  I  am  sure  it  will  pass  with  the  night's 
darkness,  and  we  will  wake  to  find  it  all  a 
dream.  I  know,  my  mother's  heart  assures 
me,  that  my  boy  is  innocent. 

Do  not  speak  or  think  of  coming  down. 
We  will  let  thee  know  at  once  all  news. 

Kwei-li 


Chinese     Courtyard  249 


[TELEGRAM] 
We  are  leaving  to-night  for  Canton. 


250  My    Lady    of    the 


XXV 

We  are  entering  Canton.  The  night  denies 
me  sleep,  and  my  brain  seems  beating  like 
the  tireless  shuttles  upon  a  weaving-loom.  I 
cannot  rest,  but  walk  the  deck  till  the  moon 
fades  from  the  dawn's  pale  sky,  and  the  sun 
shows  rose-coloured  against  the  morning's 
grey.  Across  the  river  a  temple  shines  faintly 
through  its  ring  of  swaying  bamboo,  and  the 
faint  light  glistens  on  the  water  dripping  from 
the  oars  that  bring  the  black-sailed  junks  with 
stores  of  vegetables  for  all  that  greedy  city  of 
living  people.  The  mists  cling  lovingly  to 
the  hill-tops,  while  leaves  from  giant  banyan- 
trees  sway  idly  in  the  morning  wind,  and  bil- 
lows of  smoke,  like  dull,  grey  spirits,  roll  up- 
ward and  fade  into  a  mist  of  clouded  jade, 
touched  with  the  golden  fingers  of  the  rising 
sun. 

I  see  it  all  with  eyes  that  do  not  see,  because 
the  creeping  hours  I  count  until  I  find  my  son. 


Chinese     Courtyard  251 


XXVI 

Ting-fang  has  been  tried  and  found  guilty. 
The  runners  have  brought  me  hour  by  hour 
the  news;  and  even  his  father  can  see  nothing 
that  speaks  in  favour  of  his  innocence.  It  is 
known  and  he  confesses  to  having  been 
with  the  men  who  are  the  plotters  in  this 
uprising.  He  was  with  the  disloyal  officers 
only  a  few  hours  before  the  bomb  was  thrown, 
but  of  the  actual  deed  he  insists  that  he  knows 
nothing.  All  evidence  points  to  his  guilt. 
Even  the  official  who  sentenced  him,  a  life- 
long friend  of  ours,  said  in  the  open  court  that 
it  hurt  him  sorely  to  condemn  a  man  bearing 
the  great  name  of  Liu,  because  of  what  his 
father  and  his  father's  father  had  been  to 
China,  but  in  times  such  as  these  an  example 
must  be  made;  and  all  the  world  is  now  looking 
on  to  see  what  will  be  done. 

I  will  write  thee  and  telegraph  thee  further 
news;  I  can  say  no  more  at  present;  my  heart 
is  breaking. 

Kwei-li 


My    Lady    of    the 


XXVII 

A  man  came  to  us  secretly  last  night  and 
offered  to  effect  my  son's  escape  for  fifty 
thousand  taels.  He  said  that  arrangements 
could  be  made  to  get  him  out  of  the  country — 
and  we  have  refused!  We  told  him  we  could 
give  no  answer  until  the  morning,  and  I 
walked  the  floor  the  long  night  through,  trying 
to  find  the  pathway  just. 

We  cannot  do  it.  China  is  at  the  parting 
of  the  ways;  and  if  we,  her  first  officials, 
who  are  taking  the  stand  upon  the  side  of 
justice  and  new  ideas  of  honour,  do  not  remain 
firm  in  hours  of  great  temptation,  what  lesson 
have  we  to  give  to  them  who  follow  where  we 
lead?  It  must  not  be  said  that  our  first 
acts  were  those  of  bribery  and  corruption. 
If  my  son  is  a  traitor,  we  let  him  pay.  He 
must  give  his  life  upon  the  altar  of  new  China. 
We  cannot  buy  his  life.  We  are  of  the  house 
of  Liu,  and  our  name  must  stand,  so  that, 
through  the  years  to  come,  it  will  inspire 
those  who  follow  us  to  live  and  die  for  China, 
the  country  that  we  love. 


Chinese     Courtyard  253 


XXVIII 

My  Mother, 

From  the  red  dawn  until  the  dense  night 
fell,  and  all  the  hours  of  darkness  through, 
have  my  weary  feet  stumbled  on  in  hopeless 
misery,  waiting,  listening  for  the  guns  that 
will  tell  to  me  my  son  is  gone.  At  sunset  a 
whispered  message  of  hope  was  brought,  then 
vanished  quite  again,  and  I  have  walked  the 
lengthened  reach  of  the  great  courtyard, 
watching  as,  one  by  one,  the  lanterns  die  and 
the  world  is  turning  into  grey.  Far  away 
toward  the  rice-fields  the  circling  gulls  rise, 
flight  on  flight,  and  hover  in  the  blue,  then  fly 
away  to  life  and  happiness  in  the  great  beyond. 
In  the  distance,  faint  blue  smoke  curls  from  a 
thousand  dwellings  of  people  who  are  rising 
and  will  greet  their  sons,  while  mine  lies  dead. 
Oh,  I  thought  that  tears  were  human  only, 
yet  I  see  each  blade  of  shining  grass  weighed 
down  with  dewdrop  tears  that  glimmer  in 
the  air.  Even  the  grass  would  seem  all 
sorrow  filled  as  is  my  heart. 

The  whole  night  through  the  only  sound  has 


254  My    Lady    of    the 

been  the  long-drawn  note  of  the  bamboo  flute, 
as  the  seller  passes  by,  and  the  wind  that 
wailed  and  whistled  and  seemed  to  bring  with 
it  spirits  of  the  other  world  who  came  and 
taunted  me  that  I  did  not  save  my  son. 
Why,  why  did  I  not  save  him!  What  is 
honour,  what  is  this  country,  this  fighting, 
quarrelling,  maddened  country,  what  is  our 
fame,  in  comparison  to  his  dear  life?  Why 
did  we  not  accept  the  offer  of  escape!  It 
was  ours  to  give  or  take;  we  gave,  and  I 
repent — O  God,  how  I  repent!  My  boy,  my 
boy!  I  will  be  looking  for  his  face  in  all  my 
dreams  and  find  despair. 

Dost  thou  remember  how  he  came  to  me  in 
answer  to  the  Towers  of  Prayer  I  raised  when 
my  first-born  slept  so  deep  a  sleep  he  could 
not  be  wakened  even  by  the  voice  of  his 
mother?  But  that  sorrow  passed  and  I 
rose  to  meet  a  face  whose  name  is  memory. 
At  last  I  knew  it  was  not  kindness  to  mourn 
so  for  my  dead.  Over  the  River  of  Tears  their 
silent  road  is,  and  when  mothers  weep  too  long, 
the  flood  of  that  river  rises,  and  their  souls 
cannot  pass  but  must  wander  to  and  fro. 
But  to  those  whom  they  leave  with  empty  arms 
they  are  never  utterly  gone.  They  sleep  in  the 


w 


HEN  all  the  hills  are  white  with  blossoms. 


[Page  261] 


Chinese    Courtyard  255 

darkest  cells  of  tired  hearts  and  busy  brains, 
to  come  at  echo  of  a  voice  that  recalls  the 
past. 

•  ••*••• 

My  sleeve  is  wet  with  bitter  rain;  but  tears 
cannot  blot  out  the  dream  visions  that  memory 
wakes,  and  the  dead  years  answer  to  my  call. 
I  see  my  boy,  my  baby,  who  was  the  gift  of 
kindly  Gods.  When  I  first  opened  my  eyes 
upon  him,  I  closed  them  to  all  the  world 
besides,  and  my  soul  rested  in  peace  beside 
the  jewel  within  its  cradle.  The  one  sole 
wish  of  my  heart  was  to  be  near  him,  to  sit 
close  by  his  side,  to  have  him  day  by  day 
within  my  happy  sight,  and  to  lay  my  cheek 
upon  his  rose-tipped  feet  at  night.  The  sun's 
light  seemed  more  beautiful  where  it  touched 
him,  and  the  moon  that  lit  my  Heaven  was  his 
eyes. 

As  he  grew  older  he  was  fond  of  asking  ques- 
tions to  which  none  but  the  Gods  could  give 
reply,  and  I  answered  as  only  mothers  will. 
When  he  wished  to  play  I  laid  aside  my  work 
to  play  with  him,  and  when  he  tired  and 
wished  to  rest,  I  told  him  stories  of  the  past. 
At  evening  when  the  lamps  were  lighted  I 
taught  him  the  words  of  the  evening  prayer, 
and  when  he  slept  I  brought  my  work  close  by 


256  My    Lady    of    the 

his  cradle  and  watched  the  still  sweetness  of 
his  face.  Sometimes  he  would  smile  in  his 
dreams,  and  I  knew  that  Kwan-yin  the  Divine 
was  playing  shadow-play  with  him,  and  I 
would  murmur  a  silent  prayer  to  the  Mother 
of  all  Mercies  to  protect  my  treasure  and  keep 
him  from  all  harm. 

•  •••••• 

I  can  see  my  courtyard  in  far  Sezchuan; 
and  in  the  wooden  box  within  my  bedroom 
are  all  his  baby-clothes.  There  are  the  shoes 
with  worn-out  toes  and  heels  that  tried  so  hard 
to  confine  restless,  eager  feet;  the  cap  with 
Buddha  and  his  saints,  all  broken  and  tarnished 
where  tiny,  baby  teeth  have  left  their  marks; 
and,  Mother,  dost  thou  remember  when  we 
made  him  clothing  like  the  soldier  at  the 
Yamen?  And  the  bamboo  that  the  gateman 
polished  he  carried  for  a  gun 

O  my  son,  my  son !  How  can  I  rise  to  begin 
the  bitter  work  of  life  through  the  twilights 
yet  to  come! 


Chinese     Courtyard  257 


XXIX 

How  can  I  tell  thee,  Mother  mine,  of  the 
happiness  within  my  heart!  It  is  passed;  it 
was  but  a  dream,  a  mirage.  He  is  here,  my 
boy,  his  hand  in  mine,  his  cheek  against  my 
cheek;  he  is  mine  own  again,  my  boy,  my  man- 
child,  my  son. 

It  was  not  he;  the  culprit  has  been  found; 
and  in  the  golden  morning  light  my  son  stood 
free  before  me.  I  cannot  write  thee  more 
at  present,  I  am  so  filled  with  joy.  What 
matter  if  the  sun  shines  on  wrinkles  and  white 
hair,  the  symbol  of  the  fulness  of  my  sorrow — 
I  have  mine  own  again! 


258  My    Lady    of    the 


XXX 

My  Dear  Mother, 

I  can  talk  to  thee  more  calmly,  and  I  know 
thou  hungerest  for  full  news.  Dost  thou  re- 
member Liang  Tai-tai,  she  whom  I  wrote  thee 
was  so  anxious  for  the  mercy  of  the  Gods 
that  she  spent  her  time  in  praying  instead  of 
looking  after  household  duties  and  her  son? 
He  was  the  one  who  tried  to  pass  the  Dark 
Water  and  I  talked  to  him  and  we  sent  him  to 
the  prefect  at  Canton.  It  was  he  who  found 
the  man  for  whom  my  son  was  accused.  It 
seemed  he  felt  he  owed  us  much  for  helping 
him  in  his  time  of  trouble,  and  now  he  has 
repaid. 

I  feel  that  I  have  laughed  too  oft  at  Liang 
Tai-tai  and  her  Gods,  but  now  I  will  go  with 
her  from  temple  shrine  to  temple  shrine.  I  will 
buy  for  her  candles,  incense,  spirit  money,  until 
the  Gods  look  down  in  wonder  from  their 
thrones.  I  am  so  filled  with  gratitude  that 
when  I  see  my  friend,  I  will  fall  before  her  feet 
and  bathe  them  with  my  happy  tears  for 


Chinese     Courtyard  259 

having  trod  the  path  of  motherhood  and  given 
to  the  world  a  man-child,  who  has  saved  for 
me  my  son. 

Kwei-li 


260  My    Lady    of    the 


XXXI 

My  Mother, 

We  are  home,  and  have  not  written  thee  for 
long,  but  have  telegraphed  thee  twice  daily, 
so  that  thou  hast  been  assured  that  all  is 
well. 

We  found  our  dear  one,  our  Li-ti,  bending 
o'er  her  babe,  holding  it  safely,  nestling  it, 
murmuring,  softly,  whispers  of  mother  love. 
This  son,  born  in  the  hour  of  trouble  and 
despair,  is  a  token  of  the  happiness  to  come,  of 
the  new  life  that  will  come  forth  from  grief 
and  sorrow. 

He  has  learned  a  lesson,  this  boy  of  mine, 
and  he  will  walk  more  carefully,  guard  more 
surely  his  footsteps,  now  he  is  the  father  of  a 
son. 

Kwei-li 


Chinese     Courtyard  261 


XXXII 

O  Mother  of  graciousness,  we  are  coming 
to  thee!  When  all  the  hills  are  white  with 
blossoms,  we  shall  set  forth,  our  eager  hearts 
and  souls  one  great,  glad  longing  for  the  sight 
of  thee  standing  in  the  archway,  searching  with 
earnest  gaze  the  road,  listening  for  the  bearers' 
footsteps  as  we  mount  the  hillside. 

We  leave  this  place  of  trial  and  turmoil.  I 
want  my  children  to  come  within  the  shelter 
of  thy  compound  walls,  where  safety  lies;  and 
with  the  "shell  of  f orgetf ulness "  clasped 
tightly  in  our  hands,  we  will  forget  these  days 
of  anguish  and  despair.  Then  only,  when  my 
dear  ones  are  far  from  here,  shall  my  soul 
obtain  the  peace  it  craves,  forgetful  of  the 
hostile,  striving,  plotting  treachery  of  this 
foreign  world  I  fear. 

We  are  coming  home  to  thee,  Mother  of  my 
husband,  and  I  have  learned  in  life's  great,  bit- 
ter school  that  the  joy  of  my  Chinese  woman- 


262  My  Lady  of  the  Chinese  Courtyard 

hood  is  to  stand  within  the  sheltered  courtyard, 
with  my  family  close  about  me,  and  my  son's 
son  in  my  arms. 

Kwei-li 


Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


\ 


Form  L9-42m-8,'49(B5573)444 


THE  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANG       :s 


v 


A     000585214     o 


DS 
725 
C78ra 
cop.  2 


